Drabbles
by honouraryweasley12
Summary: My collection of HP drabbles. Most of them are Ron/Hermione, but there are a few other canon ships, and general content. Range of ratings, so be warned.
1. Father and Daughter

**Father and Daughter**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on September 8, 2008

* * *

Ron sat in his favourite armchair and couldn't help grinning at the sight in front of him. His daughter, Rose, was curled up on the sofa, her nose buried in one of her new school books. It reminded him of another beautiful, intelligent witch who often sat in that exact same spot.

It was a special time for his daughter. In just a few days, his eldest would be leaving for Hogwarts. Both he and his wife were saddened by the thought, but they were also very proud of her.

Hermione was devastated that she had to spend today at the office, but he assured her that he would make it a memorable occasion. He had dropped off Hugo with Harry and Ginny, and the two of them, father and daughter, spent the day in Diagon Alley shopping for her school things and enjoying some quality time together.

He sat next to Rose and put his arm around her. "Learning anything interesting, sweetheart?"

"Yes! I can't wait to start school. Mum said I should always read ahead so that I don't fall behind in my homework."

"Luckily, you've inherited your mother's brains, so I don't think that will be a problem."

"Can you teach me the wand movement for this?" She asked excitedly, pointing down at the page in her Charms book and brandishing her new wand.

He looked down and read the spell she was pointing to.

 _Wingardium Leviosa_

He smiled again, thinking back to that fateful Halloween. That night had brought Hermione into his life and his thoughts.

"Rosie, have I ever told you about the first time I performed that spell correctly?"


	2. The Scent of Suffering

**The Scent of Suffering**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on September 13, 2008

* * *

He had left a week ago.

The emptiness and guilt were consuming him.

It was late and the cottage was silent, its other occupants asleep.

He bit into the dessert that Fleur had baked.

The scent of apples wafted into his nose, overwhelming his senses. The smell was familiar and comforting.

It reminded him of _her_. It was the same fragrance he had breathed in while he held her close and they danced at the wedding. His happiest memory of her.

He quietly made his way back to his room, the scent of apples lingering in the air. Taunting him.

He sat down on his bed and wrapped himself in his blanket.

He let out a stifled sob, the truth lay like a crushing weight on his chest.

"I need her," he whispered in the dark.

* * *

He had left a week ago.

The loneliness and pain were consuming her.

It was late and the tent was silent, its other occupant asleep.

She bit into the fruit that Harry had nicked.

The scent of oranges wafted into her nose, overwhelming her senses. The smell was familiar and comforting.

It reminded her of _him_. It was the same fragrance she had breathed in while he held her close and they danced at the wedding. Her happiest memory of him.

She quietly made her way back through the tent flap, the scent of oranges lingering in the air. Mocking her.

She sat down on the ground and wrapped herself in her blanket.

She let out a stifled sob, the truth lay like a crushing weight on her chest.

"I need him," she whispered in the dark.


	3. A Different Kind of Homework

**A Different Kind of Homework**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on September 18, 2008

* * *

"Ginny, I need your help." I called out from my bedroom.

She entered a minute later. "What do you want, Ron? I was right in the middle of packing..."

Her eyes took on a mischievous glint as she glanced at the magazines spread all over my desk.

"What are you doing with my old issues of Witch Weekly?"

"Er... they're for summer homework." I lied, my face instantly turning crimson.

She gave me a diabolical smirk. It was unnerving how similar she could be to the twins.

"Fine. I've been reading through your barmy magazines trying to figure out what to get Hermione for Christmas. I want to get her something spec-...different."

"So in a way, you have been doing your homework," she teased. "I would suggest something like perfume, we barmy girls like that sort of thing."

"Perfume? That's a great idea. Thanks Gin."

"But why are you waiting until Christmas? You know her birthday is in September, right?"

"I know...but I figure it will take me about five months to work up the courage to give it to her."

"Coward," she said with a grin and punched my arm.

"Just make sure you pick a good scent, one she might actually want to wear in public."

I scoffed. "How many kinds can there be?"

She burst out laughing. After a good five minutes, she finally let up. "Hermione has good taste, so try not to get her anything unusual," she remarked as she walked out of the room, shaking her head with a big smile on her face.

I started flipping through the magazines again, noticing the many different perfume ads.

"I'm doomed."


	4. Redemption

**Redemption**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on September 24, 2008

* * *

I knew what I had to do.

I knew the sacrifice I needed to make to strike this blow.

Compassion was not a sign of weakness, as I had been taught in my youth. It allowed me to discover a secret.

I remembered my past and my mind focused on my brother. He was brilliant and devastatingly handsome, but he always took the time to look after me. I strove to make him proud of me, until he chose his path. I scorned him, and he in turn mocked my naive stupidity. My anger clouded the small hint of doubt that had settled deep in my gut.

I became obsessed with the limitless power the Dark Lord had promised and the glory which would be reaped upon my family.

I had devoured the venom he and his followers spewed. I was seduced by it.

Succumbing to this desire changed me.

I was disgusted with what I had become and with the acts I had performed in his name. It sickened me.

The pain I inflicted and the screams of terror reverberated in my waking mind. I could not escape the burden of remorse which plagued me.

I knew there was only one way out. I sought to exploit his secret, just as I had been taught in my youth.

I wanted someone to know who had done it, who had made him vulnerable.

I grabbed a scrap of parchment and began crafting the note that would help bring about his destruction.

I carefully wrote the words that would serve as my final thoughts in this life.

I signed it with a flourish.

"R.A.B"

I could feel the heavy burden of guilt lifting from my shoulders.

I hope I have redeemed myself. I hope I have made my brother proud.


	5. Four Words (Ron)

**Four Words (Ron)**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on October 5, 2008

* * *

I needed to tell her, but the right moment never arose in the days and weeks following the final battle. We both knew it and felt it, but the words had never been spoken aloud.

We hardly left one another's side throughout the summer. We held and comforted each other while mourning the fallen. It was her strength and love that got me through the bleak day we said goodbye to Fred. Without her I would have been lost.

We travelled to Australia, and together we were able to find her parents and bring them home. Throughout that arduous journey, I had to be the strong and comforting one. I made a promise to myself that I would always be there for her.

We helped to rebuild the place that had brought us together. The place where we fought for our lives and freedoms. The place where we shared our first kiss.

I knew that tomorrow everything would change. She would be leaving to finish her final year, while I would be working alongside my brother. We will only be apart for a year, but I will miss seeing her beautiful smile every morning.

The moment was finally right. We were snuggled together in a cozy embrace in front of the fireplace at the Burrow. I held her in my arms and she rested her head on my chest. We fit together perfectly. As I looked down at her, I was entranced by the flickering firelight which bathed her lovely face in an ethereal glow. I gently kissed her and whispered the four words I had wanted to tell her forever.

"I love you, Hermione."


	6. Four Words (Hermione)

**Four Words (Hermione)**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on October 5, 2008

* * *

I knew I needed to tell him before I left for a year, even though we both felt it in our hearts.

It had been an exhausting summer. I couldn't count the number of tears I had shed. Throughout it all, he had been by my side. The funerals had been particularly devastating, and I tried my best to soothe his pain when we buried his brother.

He insisted on coming to Australia. He cared for me and comforted me during times of uncertainty and fear while searching for my parents. I wouldn't have been able to do it without him.

We helped to rebuild the place that had provided me with everything. It had welcomed me into a brand new world and had given me knowledge, memories, friendship, and most importantly, love.

Things were going to change again in the morning. I was so proud that he decided to help George in his time of need. Going back to school was something I needed to do, but I was going to miss the lopsided grin which greeted me every morning.

I knew the moment had arrived. We were curled up together in front of the fire at the Burrow. He held me close and I buried my head in his chest. I couldn't remember a time when I felt more cozy. I could feel his heart racing. He had a look of complete adoration on his face as leaned down and gently kissed me. My breath stopped as he whispered the four words I had been waiting to hear forever.

I gave him the smile which I reserved for him.

"I love you, Ron."


	7. Our Home

**Our Home**

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 **Author's Note:** Originally published on October 11, 2008

* * *

They must have looked at hundreds of places, yet none of them seemed right. There had always been something lacking, something _missing_.

"We've been at this for weeks, we're never going to find the right house." Ron groaned to his wife of three months as they walked away from another unsatisfactory dwelling.

"There's only one more to see today, then we can go back to the Burrow for dinner."

"Fine, but you know I can't make rational decisions on an empty stomach."

Hermione let out a small humph. "That's why I'm here. All you need to do is stand there and look pretty." She flashed him a cheeky grin and patted him on the cheek.

Ron let out a laugh and grabbed her in a tight embrace. He gave her a quick kiss and then waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. "Shall we Side-Along to this one?"

They both broke out in laughter before disappearing with a pop.

They arrived at a modest place situated in rural Dorset. The house was located on a large plot of land for privacy, but looked warm and inviting nonetheless.

They held hands as they took a tour of the home. After they finished, they turned and grinned at one another.

"This place is wonderful," said Hermione, her eyes shining with delight as she looked up at her husband. "It's small enough to feel cozy, but large enough...for the future."

Ron leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I can't wait to start that future with you, love. Here in our home."

"Our home. I like the sound of that."

The realtor entered the room. "Well?"

"We'll take it."


	8. Wrapped Up

**Wrapped Up**

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 **Author's Note:** Originally published on October 20, 2008

* * *

Every Christmas, Harry would receive a lumpy package containing a hand-knitted sweater. And every year, I felt a small, sad twinge of envy.

I'll admit it, I was jealous. Silly, I know. Even though the sweaters were lovely (especially the maroon ones), it was the thought behind them which I longed for. Harry didn't have a family and Molly practically adopted him from the first time they met, so it was quite a meaningful gift for him. I loved my parents very much, but I always felt a bit left out that I wasn't included, like Harry was, as a member of this family that meant so much to me.

Ron would always fuss and complain, but I knew deep down he enjoyed this gift every year. It was something to remind him of home, and of the family he loved very much. They both seemed so cozy in those sweaters, sitting in front of the fire in the Common Room during those long winter nights.

Ron would often lend me one of his when I was feeling chilly, and I secretly loved wearing it. Not only was it a thoughtful gesture from the boy I fancied, but it was like being wrapped up in a gigantic hug from the entire Weasley clan.

Which explains why I'm peering out of a frost-covered window at the Burrow with tears of happiness in my eyes. I sensed his presence behind me, and a strong pair of arms encircled my waist.

"That jumper looks perfect on you," he whispered, tracing his fingertips along the embroidered letters HW.

I smiled at his gentle touch.

"Welcome to the family, love."


	9. Untitled

**Untitled**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on October 30, 2008

* * *

I could hear my wife's laughter emanating out of the living room as I made my way over to the sofa. I sat down and planted a kiss on Hermione's cheek, causing her to blush prettily.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, we were just discussing some costume ideas." Ginny replied, hiding her grin.

"Right, the big Halloween event. Are you sure you want to go through with this, love?" I asked Hermione, who had come up with the idea to host a Muggle-style Halloween party in our new home.

"Of course Ron, you know how significant this date is to me. It brought us all together for the first time."

I thought back to the troll incident; my world changed forever that night.

"It brought you into my life." I said sincerely and caught her lips in a passionate kiss.

Ginny made some annoyingly loud retching noises, causing us to stop. I glared at her and she rolled her eyes.

"What? I never say anything when you're snogging Harry."

They turned to me incredulously. "Yes you do!"

I desperately tried to change the subject to avoid their combined wrath. I still had hex marks from the last time they were both hacked off at me. "Um, honey, why do Muggles dress up in costumes again?"

As she started her explanation of barmy Muggle traditions, I pondered the costume I had readied for the occasion.

Ginny caught my eye and looked at me questioningly. "What are you dressing up as?"

"My childhood hero," I stated proudly.

She smirked, then tried to put on her most innocent expression. "You're going as Viktor Krum?"

I could feel Hermione shaking with silent laughter next to me, and I could feel my own ears burning.

"If you must know, I'm going as Martin Miggs," I said pointedly to my sister and whispered under my breath, "not some Bulgarian git."

The two of them looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"Ok, smarty-pants, what are you dressing up as?" I asked Hermione.

She gave Ginny a conspiratorial glance. "Sorry dear, it's a secret."

"But..."

* * *

"Sweetheart, the guests will be arriving soon, you're going to have to come down."

"Close your eyes."

I heard soft footsteps tiptoe down the stairs.

"You can open them now."

She had her back towards me; the word 'Weasley' stretched across her shoulders. My jaw dropped as she turned around. "Merlin! You look brilliant!"

She smiled at me timidly. "I borrowed the equipment from Ginny and the robes...well... from you."

"But I haven't had my own Quidditch robes since sixth year."

"I nicked them before Bill's wedding. I wanted something to remind me of you." She shyly met my eyes and I could see nothing but love. She looked absolutely adorable.

"Do you know how much I love you right now?" I said in awe, then I flashed her a grin. "You're the sexiest Quidditch player I've seen since..."

"Since who?" She cut me off sharply.

"Since me, of course."

"Prat."


	10. The Promise

**The Promise**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on November 19, 2008

* * *

I felt frozen inside, even though warm sunlight poured in through the windows of the Burrow. I shivered as I sat on Ron's bed and tightly clutched a picture frame.

My eyes clouded as I stared at the family photo. Hot tears blazed trails down my cheeks and my body convulsed with sobs. It had been two miserable days since I tore my family apart. My parents were gone, blissfully unaware of the daughter they once loved.

I could hear Ron's loud footsteps coming up the stairs as I hastily tried to wipe away the streaks which coated my face. He stopped in the open doorway. "Are you alright?"

I shook my head as a fresh batch of tears began pooling in my eyes.

He quickly strode in and sat down, awkwardly laying his arm around my shoulders and giving me a gentle squeeze. I could feel his radiating warmth as I leaned into him. His clumsy but sincere attempts to comfort me since I arrived had not gone unnoticed.

"I know you miss them, but we'll find them once this is all over."

"Oh Ron, even if we do get through this, what if I can't find them again? What if I did the memory charms wrong and they never remember me?" I whispered brokenly.

"No one could forget you, Hermione."

I glanced up and saw his cheeks flush crimson.

"Look," he said earnestly, "I promise I'll come with you to find them. Think of it as our own little adventure...just the two of us. Ok?"

I nodded in agreement and gave him a shy smile, knowing there was something to look forward to.


	11. Right

**Right**

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 **Author's Note:** Originally published on November 28, 2008

* * *

No one had the right to hurt her. No one was allowed to harm the sweet, beautiful, intelligent girl he held in his arms. She had been tortured, yet she remained strong for them. He wanted revenge on the one who had assailed her with curse after agonizing curse. He wanted to wash away the glass and blood which marred her delicate features, and cleanse her of the taint of evil which sullied her innocence. Most of all, he wanted to see that sparkle in her eyes which conveyed her fierce passion, and the rare smile which lit up her face and blinded him with its radiance.

He couldn't stop shivering as he clutched her cold, limp body to him. Perhaps it was caused by the intense range of emotions he had just endured, from the undeniable fear of her seemingly doomed fate, to the acute physical pain of hearing her screams, followed by the all-consuming rage at seeing her vulnerable in the hands of those monsters, and finally, the unadulterated joy of saving her from certain death. Perhaps it may have simply been his body reacting to the sudden change of leaving a hot, stifling manor room and arriving on a rocky cliff top enveloped by cool, salt-tinged sea air.

He looked down at her pale face as the breeze caused wisps of her hair to float gently around her. He knew then that he loved her. He would have broken if she hadn't survived the ordeal. She stirred and weakly threw her arms around his neck, holding him close. His shivering subsided as he hugged her tightly. Things between them were finally right.


	12. Completion

**Completion**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on January 12, 2009

* * *

He had been searching for the feeling for years. He had only _really_ felt it once, when he was thirteen and had entered the cluttered shop in Diagon Alley. He had held the thin rod of wood in his hands and his whole body was overcome by a warm tingling sensation. A feeling of complete contentment washed over him as red sparks flew from the tip of the wand. _His_ wand. For the first time in his life, he felt complete.

Unfortunately, that feeling was short-lived. He had more important things to contend with in the years that followed, things which forced him to grow up and face the evils of the world. He managed to struggle through a war and cope with the grief which followed.

Of course, it hadn't been all gloom and doom growing up. He occasionally experienced that euphoria, albeit all too briefly. He felt it when he touched that certain spot on his cheek where she had kissed him for the first time. It had flowed through him when he awoke from near death and found her keeping vigil at his bedside, the chance for reconciliation a stronger tonic than any potion or antidote.

At this moment it filled every inch of him, a dizzying and overwhelming feeling of complete happiness, infinitely more powerful than when he was thirteen. He knelt in front of her, holding up the small box, its sparkling contents reflecting in her tear-filled eyes as she whispered a single word of acceptance.

That one word meant more to him than any red sparks ever could. He once again felt complete, but this time, it was forever.


	13. It's All In The Name

**It's All In The Name**

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 **Author's Note:** Originally published on January 13, 2009

* * *

Ron lay on his bed with his eyes closed as the afternoon sun shone in through his window. He was deep in thought about everything that had happened at the end of the school year. His recollections were interrupted by the spastic flurry of activity taking place in the small cage on the other side of the room.

"Shut it, you ruddy git," he stated loudly. He cursed Sirius under his breath for the exuberant bird which had taken an instant liking to him. As he thought about how quiet his last pet had been, he was filled with disgust, anger, and sadness. Just then, Ginny burst into his room to alert him that lunch was ready.

"Bloody hell- ever heard of knocking?" He screamed.

His sister gaped at his sudden outburst. "What's your problem?"

The tiny owl let out a series of hoots which managed to annoy Ron even more.

Ron turned to his side and whispered. "Sodding animals."

It was then that Ginny realized how hurt her brother was at what transpired with Scabbers. She tried frantically to think of something to cheer him up.

"Have you named him yet?" She asked.

"No."

"Can I? Please?"

He sighed in defeat. "If you want."

"How about Ronald Jr.?"

He turned and glared at her.

"Sparks?"

"Pass."

"Arnold?"

"That's just stupid."

"Mr. Fluffypants?"

He let out a quiet laugh and shook his head.

"Pigwidgeon?"

He let out a louder laugh and faced his sister.

"Is that even a real name?"

"Yes, I think it's cute." She nodded her head with finality.

The small owl hooted in agreement.

Ron snorted. "Fine, but I'm calling him Pig."


	14. Tranquility

**Tranquility**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on February 14, 2009

* * *

It was an unseasonably warm mid-February night at the Burrow. Ron and Hermione drowsily cuddled together on the sofa; it was their first moment of peace since making the big announcement. Hermione let out a contented sigh and snuggled closer to her husband-to-be, while gazing at the elegant ring which now adorned her finger.

"I love you," she whispered.

Ron, who couldn't stop grinning, kissed the top of her head. "I love you too."

Their tranquility was shattered by a half-amused, half-irate Ginny. "Why didn't I know about this, Ron?"

"It was a surprise, and you tend to have a big mouth."

"Git. I still don't know what you see in him, Hermione."

"Oi! I'm sitting right here."

"He's my diamond in the rough," Hermione quietly stated, flushing at her embarrassingly sappy sentiment. Ron's smile widened as he leaned down and gave her a voracious kiss.

Ginny grimaced. "Ugh, you two are worse than Mum and Dad."

"What did you want anyway? Shouldn't you and Harry be waiting for the singing dwarf to arrive?" Ron teased.

Ginny glowered at him before her expression softened. "Between Mum's shrieks and Dominique's wails, I didn't hear how you proposed."

Hermione sat up in excitement. "He said he had a surprise, so he took me by the hand and Apparated us to the seaside cliffs near Shell Cottage. The waves were crashing against the shore and the setting sun was reflecting off the surface of the water, bathing us in a warm glow. It was breathtaking."

"He got down on one knee, reached into his cloak," she giggled as Ron turned beet red, "and his hands were shaking so badly that he dropped the ring."

Ginny let out a loud laugh, "Really smooth, big brother."

"Bloody nervous," he mumbled under his breath.

Hermione put her head on his shoulder. "It was adorable."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Then what happened?"

A joyous tear slid down Hermione's cheek as she continued. "Once he found it, he wiped away my tears and kissed me. Then he made the most beautiful declaration I've ever heard and asked me to marry him."

"At which point," Ron interjected, "she said yes and tackled me."

Hermione blushed and buried her face in his chest.

Ginny chuckled and got up to leave. "I'm very happy for you both."

As Hermione drifted off in his comfortable arms, his earlier words echoed through her thoughts.

 _Meeting you on the train changed my life forever.  
I'm the person I am today because of you.  
You are a part of me._

 _We've been together through the best and worst moments of our lives._  
 _This is the place where I thought I lost you._  
 _It was here I realized I was completely in love with you._

 _I fall deeper in love with you each day._  
 _I know this will continue for the rest of my life._  
 _I want to share my love, my life, and my future with you, and only you._

 _Hermione, will you marry me?_


	15. First Time

**First Time**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on March 10, 2009

* * *

Ron Weasley was wearing a hole in the floor as he paced back and forth, hands continually running through his dishevelled hair. His quiet mutterings were interrupted by an amused Harry, who was fully aware of his best friend's predicament.

"Relax mate, compared to what we've been through, this'll be a picnic. It's a special moment for the two of you, so just enjoy it."

Ron paused and glared. "Easy for you to say, you've already done it. Twice."

"And it was much less stressful the second time around, since I was a bit more relaxed. I'm sure your second time will be much better."

Ron's eyes widened as he gaped wordlessly, doing a surprisingly accurate impression of a fish out of water. "Second time? Blimey Harry, just let me get through this once."

"Look Ron, Hermione is upstairs in your bed. Don't you think she's been waiting long enough? She needs you."

"I know she does. You know how much I love her, but what if I'm terrible at it..." He trailed off as his arms fell limply by his sides.

Harry gave him a pitying look. "I was scared and nervous the first time too, but Ginny made everything better. She helped me calm down and told me what to do. Just get up there now or you'll regret it."

Ron nodded and steeled himself, then turned and ran up the stairs. Almost immediately, Harry could hear moans and screams coming from the bedroom. An hour later, the air was punctuated with a loud sharp wail.

Ron came running down the stairs, red-faced and sweaty, looking extremely happy and proud.

"It's a girl."


	16. So Fast

**So Fast**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on March 14, 2009

* * *

I stood shrouded in the doorway as the copper dawn light slowly filtered into my usual sanctuary. I watched with a smile as he fumbled with an old wicker basket, whispering a curse under his breath. He haphazardly folded a plaid blanket and placed it within, before rummaging through the pantry.

I recalled the conversation we shared the previous evening when I found him sitting on the sofa, head in his hands, frustration emanating from him in waves.

I sat down next to him and pulled his hands away from his face. He gave me such a forlorn look that I had to fight every urge to smother him with a hug, just as I'd done whenever one of his brothers had picked on him. I gently laid my hand on his arm. "What's wrong, dear?"

In years past, he would have tried to mask his feelings with anger or humour. Instead, he swallowed and gave me an open look of helplessness. "I'm worried about Hermione. Things are still rocky with her parents, she's running herself ragged getting ready for Hogwarts, and..." His shoulders slumped as he whispered, "I'm going to miss her so much."

I was rather surprised by his honesty; it just proved how much he had matured. "Why don't you plan something special for tomorrow? Just enjoy yourselves without any worries."

I could see an idea forming in his head as he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Thanks mum."

As he finished filling the basket with all manner of treats for the girl he loved, I was struck by the most simple, undeniable truth. They grow up so fast.


	17. All's Fair

**All's Fair**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on April 9, 2009

* * *

Ron looked up with unease and squinted as the bright sunlight obscured his vision. He raised a hand to shield his eyes as he glared at the terrifying, imposing structure rising high against the bright blue canvas of the summer afternoon.

The past few hours had exhausted him, the furious sights and sounds surrounding him throughout the day had numbed his senses. Now he had to face this. The screams filling the air made him shudder and he shook his head in disbelief at what he was about to do.

He could see her from the corner of his eye, studying his reaction to the challenge ahead. He puffed out his chest in a burst of false confidence, causing her to roll her eyes and grasp his hand. She gave him a teasing smile, pulled his head down, and began whispering in his ear.

"You recklessly fly your broom hundreds of feet off the ground, and you're scared of this? Not to mention the flying car. Honestly Ron, where is your sense of adventure?"

"Blimey, love, are you sure about this?"

She giggled at his adorable, yet wholly unnecessary concern. "C'mon, let's go," she said, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the booth.

He gulped and followed, unable to resist her. As he stopped to stare at the massive contraption in front of him, he couldn't believe the lengths Muggles would go to for a bit of fun. Barmy, he thought to himself. He spotted his girlfriend and smiled at the excitement on her face; she was looking forward to sharing this experience with him. His first ever ride on a roller coaster.


	18. Sign

**Sign**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on June 17, 2009

* * *

Hermione loved Sunday mornings—it was the only time when she had a quiet moment to herself. In an hour or two she would have to leave the comfortable sofa and start her day. There was a husband to wake up with soft kisses, children to get washed and dressed for brunch at The Burrow, and things to prepare for her children's Muggle primary school classes the next day.

Her contemplation was shattered by the sound of heavy footsteps thundering down the stairs.

She stood up and faced her husband, glaring at him in sheer annoyance. She began whispering angrily. "Quiet down, Ron. You'll wake the—" her words were cut short when he lifted her off her feet in a tight embrace and swung her around in a circle. He set her down and grabbed her hand tightly, dragging her up the stairs.

"Ron, what..." She was immediately cut off again when he turned and placed a finger on her lips.

"Shhh, follow me, love."

She could feel him shaking with anticipation when he stopped in front of a slightly ajar bedroom door.

"Did you read him _The Quidditch Robes_ at bedtime last night?" He asked.

She sighed at the thought of her son's quickly forming obsession, much like that of his father. "Yes, you know it's his favourite."

"That's what I thought."

He swung open the door and she gasped. Hugo's normally blue bedspread was now bright orange and emblazoned with a large Cannons logo.

She felt her husband's warmth against her back as he held her close. Together, they leaned in the doorway and took in their son's first sign of magic.


	19. The Only Sound

**The Only Sound**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on June 17, 2009

* * *

She could hear it, far off in the distance.

 _Rumble._

Pointless bickering. Angry, cutting words said out of hunger and desperation.

 _Rumble._

The storms were getting closer. One making its presence known, the other building in silence.

 _Rumble._

The sounds of people speaking in hushed tones. News from the outside world and a significant revelation.

 _Rumble._

A sudden hope. Ideas flowing for the first time in ages and real plans to be made. A surge of excitement.

 _Rumble._

Hope shattered as two storms clash. One surrounding them, assaulting their makeshift home. The other within them, tearing them apart.

Tearing _her_ apart.

 _Rumble._

Fear and hurt. Ignorance of the rain pounding her body. Watching as the dim shape suddenly disappears into nothingness.

 _Rumble._

Cold and heartbroken. His voice, his anger, his eyes, his scent surround her.

 _Rumble._

Her tears fall freely. Her quiet sobs swallowed whole by the remaining storm.

 _Rumble._

She drifts into a restless sleep. It is the only sound she hears.

 _Rumble._


	20. Impatience

**Impatience**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on June 28, 2009

* * *

She looked over at her husband, whose long red fringe was practically covering his eyes. She had felt his gaze moments before, as she finished getting their son ready for his first day at Hogwarts. After sending Hugo upstairs to get washed up, she banished the curly auburn strands scattered on the floor. She then gestured for her husband to take the seat their son had previously occupied.

He merely shook his head and ran a hand through his overgrown locks, before turning his attention to the Quidditch magazine in his lap.

"Come here, Ron, so I can do you!"

He looked up at her with a playful smirk. "The house will be empty tomorrow, love. No need to be so impatient."


	21. The Normal Way

**The Normal Way**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on July 10, 2009

* * *

Ron sat in the back corner of The Leaky Cauldron with a look of frustration on his face. He was in a state of contemplation as he absentmindedly played with the small box in his hands. His thoughts were interrupted by the clink of a butterbeer bottle.

"I've been gone a month and you still haven't asked her?"

"Nice to see you too, Harry," Ron remarked sarcastically before taking a swig of his drink. "I tried, mate. Twice. It was a disaster each time."

"What happened?"

"After I spoke to Hermione's parents and got their blessing, Dr. Granger pulled me aside and told me all about how he had gotten dressed up and proposed to Hermione's mum at some posh eatery. He went on and on about how Muggle girls grew up dreaming of the day they became engaged. So, I bought a suit and took Hermione to an expensive French restaurant. It was horrible, Harry! I couldn't understand the menu, the waiter was a git, and I was so bloody nervous that I accidentally tripped a busboy and ended up with a bowl of soup in my lap. Hermione was embarrassed and the mood was ruined, so I couldn't very well propose after that."

Harry chuckled at Ron's misfortune but prompted him to continue. "You said you tried twice?"

"Yeah, after that mess, I spoke to my dad. He told me about the traditional betrothal spell and how young witches fantasized about the day they would hear it. Hermione came home early one afternoon last week, just as I was practicing the spell. She managed to sneak up on me, and I was so startled that I completely buggered up the charm. After she righted her face, she told me not to go anywhere near her with my wand, and then proceeded to ignore me for the next three days."

Ron slumped lower in his chair as Harry's chortles drew the attention of the other patrons. After his laughter subsided, Harry felt a wave of sympathy for his downtrodden friend and felt compelled to offer some advice. "Look, mate, you've already gotten it wrong twice. You followed Dr. Granger's advice and tried the normal Muggle way, which didn't work. Instead of trying something more creative and personal, you followed your dad's advice about the traditional wizarding way, which also didn't work. Neither one was the right way for you and Hermione. Have you considered trying it your own way?"

"My own way? But I thought women wanted a traditional proposal, like they've always dreamed of."

"Since when have either of you done things the normal way? Besides, Hermione will care more about the answering than the asking."

Ron nodded and pondered this idea. He could picture it: an evening stroll by the pond at The Burrow, dessert under the stars while watching the moonlight reflected in the water, and finally, offering her everything he had to give.

There were no wrongs with that image in his head, only rights.


	22. Boring

**Boring**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on July 17, 2009

* * *

Ron couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so happy. The sun was shining down on the large grassy area bordering the Burrow's pond and Hermione was snuggled in his lap. There wasn't anywhere else he'd rather be.

As soon as the Hogwarts Express had arrived that morning, his mum had insisted on throwing the girls a welcome home party. He'd had a more intimate welcome in mind, and he smiled as he recalled how Hermione had jumped off the train and into his arms. Their intense snog on the platform had drawn some rather boisterous catcalls from his old schoolmates. It didn't really bother him; he was too busy enjoying the feeling of holding her after their time apart.

Following the immense meal, the party guests had drifted off in various directions. Several of them had gravitated towards the pond and had found comfortable spots in the grass to enjoy the sun. As he kissed the top of Hermione's head, he couldn't help but let out a loud snort as he spied Luna hopping around nearby. He couldn't tell if she was doing an elaborate dance or trying to catch an invisible creature with her bare hands.

His reaction caused Hermione to sit up abruptly. "What?"

Ron nodded towards Luna and said with a laugh, "She's great and all, but she's still nutters."

Hermione gave him a look of indignation. "After everything she's done for us, how can you say such things?"

"C'mon, you know it's true."

"She's just...relaxing, enjoying herself."

"Normal people don't relax like that. But then again, you relax by _reading_ , so you must be a bit barmy yourself," he teased.

"I'll have you know that reading is a perfectly acceptable form of relaxation, _Ronald_."

He pulled her close and whispered playfully in her ear, "It's boring, but I love you anyway."

She huffed and wiggled out of his grasp. "I'll show _you_ boring," she declared as she scrambled to her feet. She marched over to Luna and murmured something in her ear, causing Luna's face to light up.

Ron stood up in astonishment as he watched the two girls run towards the small pier. They each let out a whoop of joy and leapt into the air, their limbs flying carelessly in all directions. They hit the water with a loud splash and slowly swam to the edge of the pond.

His jaw dropped as Hermione emerged from the water, her soaked clothes clinging like a second skin. She sauntered up to him and pulled his head down, her lips just inches from his. He let out a moan and ached to close the distance between them.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

He shrugged his shoulders hesitantly. She stepped back and poked his chest to accent each word, "I'm. Not. Boring."

Even though she was drenched, he couldn't resist wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off her feet. "Of course not, love," he said between searing kisses, "who would say such a thing?"


	23. Maybe One Day

**Maybe One Day**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on July 17, 2009

* * *

He couldn't stand the tense wait and welcomed the momentary distraction provided by his sister's constant pacing. She was bristling with nervous energy and restrained worry, her gaze never wavering from the blank wall in front of them. Neville shifted uncomfortably beside him, his strained gasps echoing in the dimly lit corridor.

Ron focused his attention on the map. As he stared at Hermione's name on the parchment, he experienced sick feelings of dread and worry which dulled the wonderful sensation instilled by the luck potion. He had a flashback to a year earlier, when he'd woken up in the Hospital Wing only to find her pale and lifeless in the bed next to his. He had been paralyzed with fear until she had finally drawn a shaky breath and shifted in her sleep. In that moment, he had made a vow to protect her from any further pain.

He cursed himself for breaking his promise, as once again they were forced to split up at the worst possible moment. His chest tightened at the thought of something happening to her. The bitter irony of his concern wasn't lost on him, as he had been the cause of her hurt that year. After the poisoning, he'd had time to reflect on his mistakes when it came to their relationship, and how his anger, frustration and petty jealousy had nearly destroyed it. They had taken slow steps to rebuild their bond, but at this terrifying moment of life and death, he realized how strong his feelings for her had become. He lamented the precious time they had squandered when there was so very little of it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a familiar door. He took one last glance at her name before hastily shoving the map in his robes.

Malfoy.

Darkness.

* * *

Dumbledore was dead. Bill was maimed. Snape and Malfoy had escaped. He had been unable to stop any of it and now felt like his world was crumbling.

The only thing preventing him from drowning in his sorrow was a trembling, but otherwise unharmed Hermione at his side. As they stood together, captivated by the phoenix's haunting song, he wanted nothing more than to hold her close and provide comfort. He practiced restraint, knowing that he needed to take things slowly; he had broken her trust once before with his rash behaviour. Despite the devastation he felt, when he looked down and saw her crestfallen expression, he knew he needed to do something.

He courageously brushed her fingers with his and grabbed her hand lightly, giving it a gentle squeeze. Unnoticed by the others, they remained like this until McGonagall entered. He squeezed her hand once more before reluctantly releasing it. She flashed him a brief smile, one which told him there was still a chance for the two of them. He was tired of wasting time and made up his mind to truly win back her trust, and maybe one day soon, her heart.


	24. Snapshots

**Snapshots**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on July 25, 2009

* * *

He often saw life as a series of snapshots, perfect little scenes captured and frozen in time forever. As he skirted down the abandoned corridor, images played in his head like one of his dad's old black and white films, allowing him to re-live the happiest times of his young life. Upon hearing the unmistakeable sound of hurried voices, he silently slid behind a nearby tapestry, afraid of getting caught... or much worse. The initial rush of foolish courage which had pushed him to sneak away was now replaced by a surge of terror. He wanted to be brave and fight, but now that the moment was at hand, he felt his heart drop.

The hushed whispers grew louder and came to a halt in front of him. His hands were shaking as he braved a quick peek and spotted his fellow Gryffindors, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, each of whom was clutching an odd bundle. He wasn't surprised to see them together; he had witnessed it innumerable times over the years. And yet, something between them had changed since he last saw them. The unidentifiable tension which usually surrounded them had given way to something else entirely.

He observed them for a moment, fascinated. She was looking up at him with such honest admiration and he, in turn, looked like he'd been waiting his whole life for her unguarded praise. Despite their dirty and tattered appearance and the war looming around them, they took this moment to simply stare into each other's eyes, clearly conveying a message of longing and something much stronger.

Love.

It was a perfect snapshot, he thought to himself, an intimate moment which would cease to exist in mere seconds. Their heads leaned forward in anticipation, but before they could close the distance, a low rumble shook the castle foundation, causing them to break out of their trance with obvious disappointment and continue on.

He marvelled at how they sacrificed their own happiness for the greater cause, for what was right. An unbidden picture popped into his head, one of a boy belching slugs to defend the honour of his friend. He remembered wondering why someone would go to those lengths, and now he had the answer. To defend the ones you love, sometimes sacrifices were necessary. This is what they had shown him then, and he saw it in action once more. He thought about those he loved: his parents, Dennis, and his friends, and he knew he had to fight to ensure they had a future free of strife.

As he made his way towards the battle, his fear and uncertainty were washed away by a sense of hope and purpose. He thought about the beautiful, tender moment he had just witnessed and his heart soared. Even if he didn't make it through the night, he would die knowing he fought for love; that his sacrifice might give countless others, like Ron and Hermione, the chance to create a thousand more perfect snapshots.


	25. Gracefully

**Gracefully**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on August 3, 2009

* * *

The utter despair reflected in the mirror conveyed something much deeper than simple vanity as she examined the single grey strand standing out amidst a turbulent sea of brown. Her mind was bombarded by memories near and far: train rides and discoveries, war and loss, tears and joy, laughter and love, first words and sticky embraces. _Where had the time gone?_

As she lamented the passing of her youth, a familiar freckled arm encircled her waist and a gentle hand pushed aside her bushy curls. Warm lips pressed a tender kiss against her exposed neck.

"You."

 _Kiss._

"Are."

 _Kiss._

"Beautiful."


	26. Blankets

**Blankets**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on August 5, 2009

* * *

Her screams still echoed in his ears as he paced in front of the closed bedroom door where she was now resting. He was proud of her resolve to attend the burial and deal with Harry's revelations, but he knew she was hurting from the torture.

He had been loath to leave her side since their narrow escape and had tried, in his own awkward way, to show her he was there for her. Hermione's wellbeing, coupled with this frustrating inability to truly comfort her had worried him greatly over the past few hours. He had tried to sleep but the image of her, helpless in Bellatrix's grasp, was the only thing he saw behind his eyelids. He had spent the past ten minutes pondering whether to check on her, despite Fleur's earlier reassurances that Hermione would be fine.

His decision was made clear when he heard a whimper. He pushed open the door to find her asleep on the bare mattress, the bedcovers heaped in a pile on the floor. He saw her shiver from the cool spring breeze, causing him to gather the blankets in his arms before laying them over her prone body.

He couldn't tell if she was aware of his presence, but he saw the trace of a smile on her face as she whispered a quiet "Rrrnn" and snuggled tightly into the blanket. As he settled down on the floor next to her bed, the small flame of hope which he thought had been extinguished the night he left suddenly flared to life. All he could hear now, as he dozed off, was her soft voice whispering his name.


	27. The Long Wait

**The Long Wait**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on August 9, 2009

* * *

She understood his reasons, but that didn't make things any easier. She had once naively hoped that their sacrifices in the years previous would curtail this, but she had learned from her position at the Ministry that even the fall of absolute evil wouldn't stop those elements of human nature which strove to cause discordance in society. She prosecuted those people every day, but someone had to find and capture them initially. Why did it have to be her Ron?

She instantly felt guilty, but she knew it was the worry that was causing these feelings. Ron had put his own aspirations on hold for years to help his brother rebuild the business after the war. In the meantime, while he was toiling away to help his family, she had established her own successful career. Now, he had finally realized his dream to become an Auror. She should be supporting him, but she couldn't face the possibility that he might not come home one day. She didn't realize the waiting would hurt so much, and this was only his first mission. Ron had assured her that it was going to be routine, but that didn't help to calm her fear and anxiety.

She had spoken to Ginny earlier and asked how she coped. All she got in return was a sad smile and the promise that she would get used to it—eventually. Hours ago, Ron himself had answered the question of why he had to do this. He simply rubbed her swollen belly and told her he was doing it to make sure their child would never have to face the horrors that they had been forced to.

She gingerly sat down in the comfortable chair facing the window and watched as torrents of rain pounded against the windows of their cozy home. Snippets of a song she had recently heard on her mum's radio slowly drifted into her thoughts, the lyrics a perfect match to the regret she suddenly felt. All the things she and Ron had said to each other over the years, miles of words even, but had they said everything they needed to say?

She pondered the events of that morning; it felt like it was weeks ago. Before he had left for the mission, had she told him that he was everything to her? That her life felt complete when she was in his arms? That the life growing inside her was the most precious gift that they had ever shared?

She was interrupted by the sound of raging winds outside as the door banged open. She heard a breathless voice call out her name. She left the chair and raced to the front entrance, barely slowing down before launching herself into his open arms and holding him tightly, needing to feel him. She didn't care that he was cold and dripping wet, all she could repeat, over and over again, were the three simple words that told him everything he needed to know.


	28. Steps

**Steps**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on August 30, 2009

* * *

You blink rapidly for a moment as you stand before the floral-draped archway, unsure of whether your eyes are simply adjusting to the bright autumn sunlight, or if they are fighting to stop the tears which are threatening to fall. You peek out at the wondrous scene awaiting you, one which your younger naive self would have described as magical. But this is a type of magic, isn't it? Not the kind you perform with a wand, but the kind you feel deep in your heart and soul.

You sense the comforting presence of your father at your side as you step forward to be greeted by a crescendo of murmurs, nearly drowning out the swell of strings, which announce your arrival. You begin a slow walk down the richly carpeted aisle, your silvery slippers gliding over the rose petals strewn in the path to your future. Your love had insisted on the roses, having observed them in your parents' photo album.

You dare not meet his eyes just yet, or you will be lost. You glance up and see your adopted brother smiling at you proudly, playing the rare but welcomed role of sidekick. You faintly hear the quiet sobs of your mother and his, the sounds of their shared joy nearly overwhelm you.

Your resistance finally breaks as you shift your gaze to the man standing proudly in front of you. He looks so handsome in his dress robes. His fiery hair glints in the sunshine, the silky feel of it long since memorized by your fingertips. Your heartbeat speeds up when you see the look of love and awe in his eyes.

The people, the music and the decorations fade to the corner of your consciousness as you draw closer to him. The two of you have transported to your own little world, and you have the sudden urge to run the remaining distance and boldly leap into his arms, like you did that fateful night a few years ago. You know he would welcome it; you can see it in the amused smile he is now giving you.

You are broken out of your reverie by your father's whispered words as you feel him press two kisses against your temple, a simple gesture he had been doing since you were little; it had always made you feel cherished and safe. With one last look you can feel him letting you go, content in the knowledge that you will continue to be loved and protected.

Your soon-to-be sister flashes you a bright smile as you finally take your place at his side, where you plan to remain for the rest of your life. You feel his hand gently enclose yours and squeeze lightly, his palm sweaty but sure. You exchange tender looks and mouthed declarations of love before the ceremony begins. The two of you stand on the cusp of something wonderful and, hand in hand, you are ready to embark on this next great journey... _together_.


	29. Bloody Hell!

**Bloody Hell!**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on August 30, 2009

* * *

The Grangers were in the kitchen, preparing tea and biscuits, while Ron fidgeted nervously on their sofa. He had agreed to meet them for their usual Friday night dinner, despite Hermione's absence.

In need of a distraction, he grabbed the remote from the coffee table and attempted to turn on the telly, cautiously pressing the red button Hermione had pointed out to him on numerous occasions. He didn't pay attention to what appeared on the screen, as he was busy rehearsing his speech to Hermione's parents. He was interrupted by a loud, lusty moan.

"Bloody hell," he whispered. He tilted his head, shocked to see _that_ on television. Panic gripped him and he scrambled to stop the ribald images and sounds echoing throughout his girlfriend's parents' living room.

"Bloody hell!" he cursed again as he desperately jammed his fingers on the buttons; he was rewarded with an even louder moan. The remote slipped out of his hands and clattered to the floor. Forgetting his wand, he dove onto his hands and knees to retrieve it, banging his head against the underside of the table upon hearing the Grangers enter the room.

"Is everything alright, Ron? We heard..."

Red-faced, he sheepishly peered up from all fours to find them staring in disbelief, their eyes rapidly flipping between himself and the screen. He cringed at the expression on Mr. Granger's face. _He must think I'm nothing but a randy tosser out to corrupt his daughter._

"Sorry, I... er... dropped the remote," he said, turning off the television.

Ron decided, in the awkward silence, that his question would have to wait. That was until Mr. Granger pointed to the small box which had slipped out of his pocket. "What's that?"

 _Bloody. Hell._

"Um... I have something I need to talk to you about..."


	30. Lessons

**Lessons**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on September 1, 2009

* * *

Hermione sat down in a comfortably familiar spot and let out a huge sigh. It had been an exhausting day, from the heart wrenching parting at the platform, to her duties on the train ride and at the Sorting Feast. She had been unable to shake her feelings of loneliness, even when she had shared a train compartment with Ginny, Neville, and Luna. She greatly missed the two people closest to her, especially Ron. Hogwarts just didn't seem the same without her boys.

She dutifully pulled out her homework planner and was surprised to find an envelope attached to the cover with Spellotape.

 _Hermione Granger  
Last Table, Third Row, Charms Section  
Hogwarts Library_

Her mood instantly brightened when she realized the green ink was in Ron's familiar hand. She eagerly ripped it open and began reading.

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _Did I guess correctly? I knew you couldn't resist that spot in the library, even on your first day back._

 _I know we agreed to owl each other as often as possible, but I wanted to give you something else special to look forward to. You'll find a note on the first day of every month in your planner. Each contains a special lesson, just for you. Think of Harry's map and all shall be revealed._

She flipped to October 1st and found the blank parchment. She whispered the required phrase and watched as words slowly formed.

 _No peeking, Miss Granger  
Five points from Gryffindor_

She chuckled and shook her head before continuing Ron's note.

 _Ha! I knew you couldn't resist. As you can see, I've already learned a trick or two from George._

 _I know you're impatient to get to your first lesson, so here it is._

 _Five handy tips hidden within Hogwarts, A History_

 _1\. Do not try and Disapparate from the school grounds, even if you have a handsome boyfriend waiting for you on the outside. A famous know-it-all once said it just isn't possible._

 _2\. If a ghost invites you to a party, run away. If that ghost is named Myrtle, run FAR away. Parties held in a U-bend must not be very fun._

 _3\. Head Girls are encouraged to turn a blind eye to the consumption of Butterbeer during Quidditch victory parties, unless said participant is a female, red-headed Chaser. Or Seeker._

 _4\. Professors with wavy hair and perfect teeth tend to be gits. Avoid them at all costs._

 _5\. Do not eat chocolate cakes perched on the ends of banisters._

She laughed heartily at his "lesson", greatly needing the release it provided. It was as though he was sitting next to her, making those silly remarks, just like he had during their years of school together. She couldn't wait to read the rest of his lessons.

 _I hope that made you smile. I'll miss you, but we'll see each other soon._

 _Love,_

 _Ron_

She let out a contented sigh upon reading his closing words, anticipating the day when she would be in his arms once again.


	31. Casting Spells

**Casting Spells**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on September 7, 2009

* * *

He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and tried to calm his racing heartbeat. Ever since that bossy, infuriating girl had appeared in their compartment, he had felt exhausted, like he had just played several hours of Quidditch with his brothers.

At first he thought it was caused by his attempt at the colour spell, but it wouldn't fade away as she had continued prattling on about books and houses. She was annoying, yet strangely captivating. He had certainly never met anyone like her before.

He was angry at her demands to see him perform a spell, but he didn't know if it was because of her pushiness, or because he had failed, 'specially in front of _her_.

He didn't want to be in the same house as her, not really, but he wondered if she would pass by the compartment again. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to prove something to her, or if he wanted to scream at her for being a nuisance and causing him to feel so dizzy and warm. It must be the latter, he decided. Perhaps she had placed a spell on him? That would explain it.

He was reminded of the stories his mum read to himself and Ginny, where the brave wizard saved the witch and they lived happily ever after. He had scoffed when his mum had explained that the two characters were in love. He had honestly found the whole idea confusing, but she had said that one day he would understand, and that it would feel like nothing else he could imagine. That was sorta what he was feeling now; but that couldn't be it.

Could it?

* * *

All thoughts of the missing toad had left her as she pondered the discussion with those boys. She should be thrilled, meeting the famed Harry Potter, yet her thoughts kept drifting to the other boy, dishevelled and intriguing. Every time she did so, she felt a surge of something perplexing yet fascinating.

What could possibly be causing this? It was a question she didn't have an immediate answer to, and it flustered her tremendously. She prided herself on always knowing the answer, but this was something else entirely. Was it just her nerves, entering a new world for the first time? Maybe it was the magic of the train? She had seen many wonders since receiving her letter, but this was how she always imagined _real_ magic would feel. Yes, it must be her surroundings. It had nothing to do with that red-haired boy, Ron. She wasn't entirely convinced by her own conclusion.

She decided to march down the train to confront him. Had he cast some spell on her when she had turned her back? That would explain it, even though he didn't seem very adept at spell work. The only other thing that came to mind was when her father had joked that her mother's love had cast a spell on him. That could not be it.

Could it?


	32. Reprimand

**Reprimand**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on September 22, 2009

* * *

They were interrupted by a loud argument outside his office.

"Shit," Ron exclaimed, scrambling to cover his topless wife with her torn blouse. "Quick! Apparate home."

"I can't, the wards," she stated in a panic as she climbed off his desk.

A loud knock reverberated though the room. "Auror Weasley! I caught two trainees duelling in the lockers."

"Bloody Taylor, worse than Head Boy Percy, he is."

"Focus, Ron."

Another knock broke the tension.

"Hide underneath the desk."

She huffed, but crawled under. He admired her shapely rear before sitting down.

"Come in."

The door flew open and a pompous looking man entered, hauling in two young trainees. "I'll leave them with you."

As the two launched into a loud squabble, Ron felt a curious sensation.

 _Oh. Fuck._ He felt his fly slowly being pulled open. He risked a glance, only to see his wife wink at him mischievously with the zipper tab between her teeth as she tugged downward. He hardened instantly and squirmed in his chair.

"One at a time!" he roared in frustration.

As the recruits argued about who would speak first, he felt her warm mouth engulf his hard cock, her wet tongue tracing a path along the underside. His eyes rolled back, so he surreptitiously slid his hand into her hair and tried to still her movements. She slapped it away and increased her tempo.

"Oh fuck, stop it," he groaned out loud, meaning to admonish his wife, but instead drawing the attention of the two trainees. He flushed as he felt her teeth lightly scrape against his shaft.

 _I have to get rid of them, NOW!_

"Are you alright, sir? You're turning red."

 _An opportunity._

"I'm extremely angry at your behaviour," he said in his most commanding voice. "Suspension. Three days each. Now get out of my sight."

He cast silencing and locking charms on the closed door, before pulling his sexy wanton wife off the floor to stand in front of him. He bunched up her skirt and roughly tore off her knickers.

"Did it make you wet, love, teasing me with your dirty mouth?"

She licked her lips and eyed him hungrily. "I fingered my cunt when I was sucking you off."

It drove him absolutely mental when she spoke like that. Unable to hold back, he pulled her forward to straddle him on the chair.

"I need to fuck you," he whispered before impaling her on his cock. He gripped her hips tightly and relentlessly pounded into her, her whimpers drawing him closer to the edge as she rode him.

"So hot... hearing you order them," she admitted amidst her loud moans.

He reached up and grabbed her face between his hands, their eyes locking.

"Come for me," he growled.

"Yes!" Hermione screamed as her body shook with waves of pleasure. He thrust hard once more before emptying into her. She collapsed onto his chest and they sat, wrapped up in one another.

"Auror Weasley!"

"Bloody hell," he groaned, "not again."


	33. Persistence

**Persistence**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on October 12, 2009

* * *

Hermione drove him _mental_ whenever she did that with her tongue.

Ron stared hungrily at his wife as she furiously scribbled away on a sheaf of parchment. The tip of her tongue poked out just past her soft pink lips, the unconscious gesture teasing him. It was a habit she'd always had when concentrating, but he hadn't _really_ taken notice of it until fifth year.

"Not right now," she announced, without even looking up.

He grinned and positioned himself behind her chair, idly twirling a flyaway chestnut curl around his finger.

She reached up and batted his hand away. "Stop it, Ron."

Undeterred, he slowly traced a pattern down her graceful neck, his fingertips delicately teasing the surface of her skin.

"I need to finish this report," she groaned, the sound of defeat evident in her voice.

He began massaging her tense shoulders and whispered in her ear, "Finish it tomorrow, love. Let me take care of you now."

She moaned, but half-heartedly tried to squirm away. "I... I really must..."

He slid his hands down the front of her jumper and pressed a trail of warm kisses down her neck.

"Oh my!" she breathed. "Why do you have to be so..."

"What? Handsome, irresistible, sexy..."

"Persistent."

"You always encourage me to go after what I want."

He turned her head and tipped her chin up.

"And what is it you want?" she asked.

"You," he said before capturing her lips and teasing _her_ with the tip of _his_ tongue.


	34. Unnecessary

**Unnecessary**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on October 25, 2009

* * *

He showed it in the way he gently carried her to bed when she drifted off on their burgundy settee, her face stuck in a book. In the way he wrapped his heavy cloak around her shoulders on chilly autumn nights. In the way he hungrily kissed her.

She saw it in the way he looked at her, devoted yet feral, that glint in his bright blue eyes always causing butterflies to flutter deep within her belly. In the way he would wake up early and make her favourite breakfast on lazy Sunday mornings, even though he treasured his sleep. In the way he cherished her.

She felt it in the way he held her tight on stormy evenings, their shared warmth staving off whispers of lingering regret and faded memories of heartbreak. In the way he rubbed her sore feet after a long day. In the way he touched her.

She showed it in the way she massaged his aching shoulders after strenuous days of making the world a safer place. In the way she always gave him an extra serving of pudding. In the way she snogged him breathless.

He saw it in the way she smiled at him, brilliant and mischievous, her soft upturned lips causing him to shiver with anticipation. In the way she would don orange and cheer with him amongst the raucous crowds, despite having little interest in the match. In the way she adored him.

He felt it in the way she reverently ran her fingers through his ginger hair, clutching him to her breast when fictitious images haunted his dreams. In the way she indulged him with her musical laughter after one of his silly remarks. In the way she caressed him.

They said it in the way their hands always sought each other out, clasping together to renew and strengthen their connection. In the way they would sit in comfortable silence, basking in the other's presence. In the way they gave themselves to each other completely.

They didn't always say those precious words aloud. They didn't need to.


	35. Conquering Fear

**Conquering Fear**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on October 31, 2009

* * *

Ron enthusiastically grabbed his girlfriend's hand and tried pulling her into the queue for the Muggle haunted house.

"C'mon Hermione," he pleaded. "Harry and Ginny had a great time here last year."

She stubbornly stood her ground and shook her head. "I'd really rather not go in, Ron."

He was surprised by her lack of enthusiasm. She usually put up a token fight before indulging in one of his impulsive ideas, but the frown on her face indicated something deeper than mere reluctance. Worried by her reaction, he walked her away from the line and tenderly cupped her face between his hands, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks.

"What's wrong, love?"

He watched as her glance strayed to the dark entrance, studying it for a moment, before she met his eyes.

"It reminds me of Grimmauld Place—that horrible night we escaped from Bill's wedding. Do you remember the Dumbledore jinx?" She closed her eyes and visibly shuddered, reliving the frightening memory. "It was terrifying."

He pulled her in close and soothingly rubbed her back. "I'm so sorry, Hermione, I thought this would be a bit of harmless fun. Please let me take you home." He smiled into her hair. "I can even nick some treats from your parents; it's the only day there's anything sweet at your house... besides you, of course."

She groaned and stepped back, her cheeks pink from his corny compliment. She couldn't help but return his infectious smile. As he searched for a hidden spot from which they could Disapparate, she gripped his forearm and halted him.

"I'm acting silly. There's nothing to be scared of in there."

He seized her hand once again. "Are you sure? We don't have to."

"It'll be fine," she insisted quietly. "Just don't let go."

He leaned down and kissed her softly, before whispering against her lips. "Never."

He wrapped his arm protectively around her back as they stood in line. The couple finally gained entrance to the elaborately decorated home and began to make their way through. After encountering a few "monsters" and "ghosts" which had sprung out of hidden chambers and closets, Ron noticed Hermione relax and begin to enjoy the attraction.

He looked around in wonder at the painstaking detail and was impressed, even if their depictions of supernatural creatures were amusing to him. The extravagant coffin in the living room and the giant spiders on the wall did unnerve him slightly. The entire time, his eyes kept darting to Hermione, making sure she was alright. Just as he'd promised, their hands never separated.

Upon completing their tour of the house, she hugged him tightly. "Thank you."

"I meant what I said, Hermione. I love you and I'll always be here for you."

His sudden, heartfelt declaration caused her eyes to shine, and she stood on her toes, kissing him with all the passion she could muster.

After they broke apart, he grinned and licked his lips. "Mmm... you _are_ the sweetest treat of all, Hermione."


	36. A Quiet Evening

**A Quiet Evening**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on November 25, 2009

* * *

Hermione could hear the wireless in the other room as she entered the darkened hallway of her— _their_ —flat. She kicked off her shoes and sighed in relief as her aching feet sunk into the plush carpet.

She fiddled with her ring for a moment, a habit she'd fallen into since Ron, on bended knee, had put it on her finger that memorable night three weeks ago. She gingerly padded to the living room, scolding under her breath upon spotting his bare feet on the coffee table. Her expression softened when she took in the sight of her adorable fiancé.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at the content look on his face as he dozed in the corner of the sofa, his head tipped back and his light snores mingling with the Weird Sisters tune in the background. She spent a minute studying him, from the baggy plaid pyjama bottoms to the garish orange tee shirt bunched around the waistline of his slumped form. Spending time with Ron before had been fantastic, but coming home to him was indescribable.

She wordlessly turned off the wireless and he started with a yawn, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Long day?" he asked groggily as he struggled to sit up. "You look knackered."

"I haven't had a break all day."

"Come here, love."

She limped over and collapsed into his lap, loving the feeling of his comforting arms around her. He kissed the top of her head and gently rubbed her back.

"Hungry? I made some dinner. You probably didn't eat much today if you were that busy."

"Not yet," she mumbled into his chest, gripping him tighter in appreciation of his thoughtfulness.

She felt his hand trail down her leg and begin rubbing her tired feet.

"Better?"

"Oh, that feels wonderful, Ron."

She reached up and pulled his head down for leisurely kiss.

"Mmm... my pleasure. A bloke could get used to this."

"What's that?"

"Holding you every night. I should have done this earlier."

"Given me a foot massage?"

He chuckled. "No, move in."

"You know I wanted you to."

Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and kissed the ring on her finger. "I know I was being a little old-fashioned, but I wanted to wait until we were engaged."

She ran a fingertip down his jaw line. "I understand, Ron. I just always hated it when you left at night. I happen to like waking up next to you."

He kissed her soundly. "I can't think of anything better. Have I mentioned how brilliant this is, just the two of us?"

"Yes," she laughed, "every day for the past three weeks."

"And I'm going to keep telling you, every day for the rest of our lives."

"I'll hold you to that, Ron."

"Good, I'm counting on it. Now, it's time to eat... I have a feeling you'll need your strength tonight," he said before kissing her neck.

She moaned. "I'll hold you to that, Ron."

"Good, I'm counting on it."


	37. Realization

**Realization**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on December 23, 2009

* * *

Ron shuffled into the festive wonderland previously known as his living room. Hermione had gone all out, from the ornament-laden tree to the bulging knit stockings hanging from the mantelpiece—a toddler sized one surrounded by two larger ones. A roaring fire warmed the surroundings and cast a flickering copper light on the room's occupants.

An unexpected lump rose in his throat as he watched Hermione delicately drape a blanket over Rose. His wife then sunk to the floor, her skirt covered legs tucked beneath her. A mysterious smile played across her lips as she leaned back against the sofa where their daughter was sleeping after a fun-filled Christmas Eve at the Burrow.

He sat down next to Hermione and ghosted a kiss against her neck.

"Tonight was brilliant. Now, if only you would let me open a gift or two..."

"Go on."

"Really?" he asked in surprise. She _always_ made him wait until Christmas morning.

"Yes, but your stocking only."

He scrambled to his feet and pulled it down, a boyish look of excitement on his face as he eagerly stuck his hand inside.

"A pear? No wonder you agreed to this."

Hermione chuckled. "Keep going."

He frowned when an apple followed, but this was remedied when he scooped out a pile of chocolate frogs. He popped one in his mouth, before examining the accompanying card.

"Keep going," she quietly urged.

He absentmindedly reached in and felt a scrap of cloth. He glanced at it for a second, before swallowing down the chocolate.

"How did Rosie's sock get in here?" he asked nonchalantly before returning to the card. When she didn't answer, he faced her, and his breathing stilled when he saw the tears rolling down her glowing cheeks.

"Hermione?"

Realization dawned on his face as he looked at his hand. It was a stocking. A tiny, _perfect_ stocking.

He crumpled to his knees in front of her, unable to fight the moisture pooling in his eyes. His hand immediately moved to her belly. "Another baby?"

She nodded her head and smiled through her joyful tears. "Happy Christmas, Ron."


	38. Sweets, Biscuits, and Chocolate

**Sweets, Biscuits, and Chocolate**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on January 3, 2010

* * *

As Hermione quietly entered her home, she was greeted with a loud clang followed by Rose's piercing wail. She pulled off her boots and raced to the kitchen, but stopped in the archway after observing the scene in front of her.

A tray of shattered Christmas biscuits lay overturned on the floor and her six-year-old daughter was curled in Ron's lap, bawling on his shoulder. Hugo sat at the table and stared at them with a trembling lower lip, a sweet clutched in his pudgy hand.

"Don't cry Rosie, it was an accident." Ron cuddled his daughter and soothingly patted her messy plait. "We've made more than enough already."

Rose's voice was muffled as she spoke into his shirt, her sobs beginning to subside. "Mummy... is going to be angry with me... for making such a big mess."

" _Evanesco!_ "

Ron waved his wand, the baking sheet and biscuit remnants instantly vanishing. "See? All gone."

He tickled her lightly, causing her to giggle, before catching the morose look on his son's face. "All right, Hugo? Your sister is fine. No need to get upset, mate."

Rose pulled back and addressed her brother, giving him a sheepish smile. "I'm okay, Hugo."

Hugo nodded before devouring the rest of the treat in his hand, causing them both to laugh. Hermione quietly chuckled from her spot at the entrance.

"Mummy will be so proud of you for making these, Rose." Ron looked up and gave Hermione a wink. "We love Mummy very much, don't we?"

"Yes, Daddy, but you love her the most."

"Why do you say that, Rose?"

"Mummy!" She jumped down from Ron's lap and ran across the kitchen to where Hermione was now kneeling.

Rose gave her a hug and whispered secretively. "Don't worry Mummy, Hugo and I love you lots, but Daddy said he loves you more than all the sweets, biscuits, and chocolate in the world."

She gave Hermione a look of wide-eyed innocence before stretching her arms out wide. "That's loads!"

Hermione laughed at the look of wonderment on Rose's face. She tapped her daughter on the nose and kissed her forehead. "Take your brother and wash up for dinner."

Hermione pulled Hugo in for a hug and a kiss as the children exited the kitchen. She walked over to Ron and was promptly pulled into his lap, where she let out a sigh and rested her head in the crook of his neck.

"Long day, Hermione?"

"The longest, but it was all worth it to come home to this." She nuzzled his neck and smiled. "You love me more than all the sweets in the world, do you?"

"Of course."

"And biscuits?"

"Yes."

"And chocolate?"

He grinned. "Even chocolate."

"Merlin, I love you, Ron. I don't tell you enough, but you're a wonderful husband and father."

"Hermione, you tell me all the time—in the way you look at me, smile at me and..."

"Yes?"

"Kiss me," he said, meeting her lips in a long, leisurely snog.


	39. Her Surprise

**Her Surprise**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on January 22, 2010

* * *

 _I'll have a blue Christmas without you  
I'll be so blue just thinking about you_

Strains of the familiar standard emanated quietly from the wireless stationed next to Mr. Granger's comfortable armchair, where Hermione anxiously sat and listened—the lyrics hitting a little too close to her aching heart. She made her way to the frosty window, watching the steady fall of snowflakes in the orange beam of a nearby street lamp.

The day started with such promise. After rollicking between the sheets in the early hours of the morning, Hermione and Ron huddled together in her flat and opened a pile of gifts. Ron had been teasing her for weeks about a special surprise, but at the very moment he was going to make his big revelation, they were interrupted by a Patronus from Ron's commander, immediately summoning him to an emergency raid.

Ron was livid, ranting that everything was ruined. She had to restrain him from contacting Harry, in a misguided attempt to enlist his best mate's help to skive off the assignment.

She calmed him down, but registered the extreme disappointment on his face as he changed his clothes. He apologised with a kiss before looking at her with a serious expression, unlike his usual jovial self.

"I'll make sure, _somehow_ , that you get your surprise today. It has to be today."

She nodded, intrigued, but was more concerned about his well being at the moment.

"Please be careful and stay safe. I love you, Ron."

"I love you, too."

She spent the day fraught with worry, but followed through with their plans to have Christmas dinner with her parents. When Hermione arrived, her mum sported a huge smile and pulled her into an uncharacteristically tight hug, before noticing that Ron was absent. Her parents seemed stunned, and were particularly saddened when she told them about what had occurred. The Grangers retired early after a quiet dinner, the mood to celebrate extinguished.

As Hermione continued staring out into the swirling white, she heard an unmistakable _crack_ behind her. She turned and jumped into his arms, peppering his cold face with kisses.

He pulled back and glanced at the clock above the mantle, which showed only a few minutes until midnight. He carried her to the sofa and sat her down gently, before placing a finger on her lips and hunching down on one knee in front of her. Reaching into his cloak, he produced a small black box—a ring box.

She gasped loudly and her hands found his free one.

"I have an important question, and I'd been waiting months for this particular morning to arrive in order to ask it. Christmas morning is when I heard you call my name in the darkness, leading me back to you. This ring is a symbol, one which means we'll always have each other, no matter the distance between us."

He faltered slightly as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Will... will you be mine, Hermione Granger? Forever?"


	40. Snogging Only

**Snogging Only**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on January 22, 2010

* * *

Ron stared openly at the hypnotizing sight before his eyes. Hermione was bent over, tidying up after entertaining at their home—a few days before Christmas.

He restrained himself all evening as he watched her play the energetic hostess, her skirt whirling about her feet and her cheeks rosy in the soft candlelight. She flashed him teasing smiles throughout the festivities, her eyes full of promise. Now that they were finally alone, he intended on following through with their unspoken agreement.

He watched, transfixed, as Hermione wiggled her cute arse, not realizing the effect she was having. He wrapped her up from behind, lifting her off her feet.

"Ron!" she shrieked in surprise. "Where are you taking me?"

He walked them backwards until they were standing in an open doorway, before spinning her around and pulling her tightly against his growing hardness. Glancing up briefly, he uttered a single word.

"Mistletoe."

He dipped down and caught her lips in a voracious kiss. His hands roamed her body and squeezed her fanny, knowing just how to touch her. As he left a wet trail down her neck, she moaned and unfastened his trousers, fishing out his manhood.

"God, Ron. I've been waiting all night." She brazenly lifted her skirt and pressed his fingers firmly against her damp knickers. "See? I'm ready for you. _Now!_ "

He frantically tore off the satin, lifted her up, and impaled her on his hard cock. She let out a cry and wrapped her legs around him as he thrust repeatedly.

"Fuck, Hermione, need more."

His teeth took hold of the front of her dress and pulled, scattering buttons everywhere as he descended on her exposed breast. She reached up and grabbed the doorframe, the sprig of mistletoe hanging between her outstretched arms as she arched her back, offering her chest to his seeking tongue.

He continued fucking her without restraint, propelling them both closer to completion. Over their vocal lovemaking, they failed to hear the crack of Apparition behind Hermione.

"Ginny forgot her... bloody hell!" Harry's voice rang out.

Ron tried to pull away, but Hermione screamed out in wanton ecstasy. "Ron, don't stop!"

"Mistletoe is _supposed_ to be for snogging _only_ ," Harry remarked cheekily before disappearing.

Ron plunged into her a few more times before Hermione came with a shudder, her moans pushing him over the edge as he spurted his hot spunk inside her.

They collapsed, exhausted, on the nearby sofa. After regaining their senses and cleaning up, Ron retrieved a Harpies scarf from the floor.

"Be right back."

He reappeared a moment later, wailing loudly. "My eyes! Pale skinny arse and freckles... everywhere."

Hermione snorted. "We must have... inspired... Harry."

"I'll never get that image out of my head, Hermione."

She summoned the hanging mistletoe, before turning her back to him and sashaying away. "Come upstairs, you big baby, and I'll make you forget all about it."

Ron's mind went blank as he was once again mesmerized by the movement of Hermione's arse.


	41. Up In The Air

**Up In The Air**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on January 23, 2010

* * *

"Hermione, she'll be fine."

"I don't know about this, Ron. I still think she's too young to fly on her own." She glanced outside and saw the branches of their trees waving back and forth. "It seems much too windy."

Rose's face fell slightly, but her eyes silently pleaded with her father. He nodded slightly and presented his best case.

"Love, you know Ginny was flying well before she was eight, even if none of us knew about it. At least Rosie came to us instead of trying it on her own. I think that shows responsibility, just like you're always teaching her and Hugo. I'll even go up with her, on one of my old brooms."

Hermione looked back and forth between her husband and daughter, taking note of the similar puppy dog expressions on their faces. She felt her resolve weakening as she studied the two sets of big blue eyes and pouting lower lips.

Throwing her arms up in exasperation, she conceded. "Fine, but don't go too fast or too high. The wind does look like it is picking up."

Rose squealed and hugged Hermione. "Thanks Mum! This is the best birthday ever!"

"I promise I'll bring her back in one piece," Ron said, kissing his wife on the forehead before following his daughter out the door.

She had no doubt of that, though she assumed her definitions of too fast and too high were quite a bit different than that of her husband—or her daughter, for that matter. She heard Ron's loud voice, just as the front door closed behind him.

"Race you to Uncle Harry's!"


	42. Excuses, Excuses

**Excuses, Excuses**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on January 23, 2010

* * *

"But Hermione," Ron whinged, "it's horrible outside."

Her hands flew to her hips and she glared at him. "Apparition, Ron. Perhaps you've heard of it? Do you have any other sorry excuses for not wanting to spend Christmas Eve with my parents?"

"Standing like that isn't helping," he replied with a wink.

Hermione's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Being randy is not an excuse!"

He wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. "Course not. If it was I'd never get anything done… I'm _always_ randy around you."

She looked up to see him nodding, a crooked grin on his face. Shrugging out of his loose grip, she tried to hide her smile, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"That's not funny, Ron."

"Then why are you smiling, love? You know it's true."

"Oh hush. We can't skip another family event because of your... needs."

" _My_ needs? We missed Percy's birthday because _you_ couldn't keep your hands off me." His eyes glassed over and he had a dreamy look on his face. "That was a fun night."

She shook off that pleasant memory. "Stop trying to distract me, Ron."

He ran a hand through his ginger hair. "C'mon Hermione, between all the work and family functions, we've barely had any time to ourselves lately. We're spending all of tomorrow at the Burrow, and we just saw your folks two days ago."

She frowned, a hurt look crossing her face. "I thought you liked my family."

He grabbed her hands between his. "Your parents are brilliant."

"Then?"

"Come with me for a minute, yeah?"

She nodded her consent and he pulled her gently towards a nearby window. Hugging her from behind, he leaned down and whispered in her ear.

"Tell me what you see."

"Blowing snow, ice, and frost. It's called a snowstorm for a reason, Ron."

He illuminated a nearby lamp before resuming his spot behind her. "Look again."

Despite her confusion, she stared at the pane of glass. The addition of the light in the background changed the image in front of her.

"Tell me what you see now."

"I see us, reflected in the glass." She watched his mirror image lean forward and she felt the brush of warm lips.

"Exactly. The only way I want to spend this cold and snowy night is with you, and only you. Why can't we snuggle together on the sofa, in front of the fire under your favourite blanket, and fall asleep in each other's arms?"

She turned in his arms, placing her hands on his cheeks. "You can be so sweet sometimes."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

"Wicked."

Returning to the room after informing her parents, Hermione was met by Ron. He was holding open the blanket invitingly, his long frame stretched across the sofa. She slid in next to him and, after a few minutes of cuddling, whispers, and feather-light kisses, sighed.

"Mmm... this is wonderful, Ron."

"I'm still randy, you know."

"Don't push your luck."


	43. Case Dismissed

**Case Dismissed**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on January 23, 2010

* * *

"Pffft, Hermione, your hair is in my mouth."

"Ow! You're stepping on my foot, you git!"

"Let me light my wand."

"No, Ron, someone might see."

"There's no room in here."

"You're the one who dragged me into this closet the second the case wrapped up."

"Couldn't help it. Now, turn around. I want you from behind."

She moaned and managed to turn her back to him in the cramped space, her arse massaging his clothed erection.

"Yeah, that's it."

He tightened his arms around her waist and began planting wet, heated kisses down her neck.

"Fuck, Hermione, do you know how turned on I get watching you control that courtroom? I wanted to bend you over and ravish you, right there."

"Yes, Ron, I can feel it." She reached back to unfasten his trousers.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! Be careful with the zipper."

"Stop squirming."

"Something sharp is poking me in the arse. What's in here?"

"I saw a wreath before you shut the door."

"Christmas decorations?" he asked, tasting her skin. "Shouldn't they be up already?"

"It's a new Muggle appreciation policy," she whispered, her voice shaky. "Ministry decorations are to be done without magic. We're too dependent on wands… not using our hands enough."

"Agreed," he growled, before his hands found their way into her robes—one reaching up to massage her breast, the other pushing into her knickers to rub her moist clit.

"Ohhhh," she groaned, gathering her robes around her waist.

He pulled her silky knickers down, just enough for them to hang between her thighs, and smacked her bare bottom before thrusting deep into her cunt.

"Shite, Hermione, love being inside you."

"Fuck me hard, Ron."

He eagerly pushed into her with long pleasurable strokes.

"Not in control now, are you?" he whispered, his fingers finding her clit once again.

"No," she whimpered. "Please make me come, Auror Weasley."

"My pleasure, Madam Weasley."

His fingers were a blur as he pounded into her.

"RON!" she screamed as she came around his slick cock.

He let out a shout, muffled by her hair, and pumped his hot load into his wife.

He nuzzled her ear. "That was intense."

"Let's go home."

"Anxious for more?"

"Yes, love. The children will be home for Christmas break tomorrow."

"What are we waiting for?"

After straightening up, Ron reached for the door handle—just as it swung open and a woman's voice rang out.

"I think the last of the decorations... so nice to see you, Madam and Auror Weasley. Good shag?"

Hermione sputtered. "We... Ron... just discussing–"

She held up a hand. "Save it, Hermione. Judging by the blush on your face and Ron's grin, I'd say it was."

The pink colouring in Hermione's cheeks deepened. "Come on, Ron."

As they turned to walk away, Parvati couldn't help but whisper under her breath. "Forty years old and still shagging like randy teenagers. Will those two ever stop?"

"No bloody way," Ron exclaimed, before pinching his wife's bum.

 _"Ron!"_


	44. Dreams Come True

**Dreams Come True**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on January 28, 2010

* * *

A completely nude Hermione sat cross-legged on her plush carpet, resisting the strong urge to rub her aching clit. She was facing an equally naked Ron—his lean freckled body flushing crimson as he slowly stroked his erection. She could see nothing but raw desire in his eyes.

She hadn't envisioned this when, at the last minute, she'd placed the seemingly innocent parchment in his Christmas stocking. It stated that she'd participate in any activity of his choosing, no complaints. He could even decide what she would wear.

Quidditch was to blame for the note. Ron attended many matches, wearing his Cannons robes with pride and charming his face to a garish shade of orange—making him look like an oversized carrot. He was always nagging her to attend matches with him, and he'd promised he would make her go someday, wearing the same ridiculous outfit.

She thought this would be a fun way for him to make that fantasy come true. As she looked at the items laid out in front of her, it was evident he had a much different thought in mind. She knew it would be naughty... and they would both love it.

"Put them on," Ron's eager voice instructed.

Hermione spread her legs out in front of her, watching as he licked his lips. Lifting her bum, she buttoned the familiar pleated skirt around her waist before seductively pulling the white knee socks up her smooth calves and slipping on the black leather shoes. A pillow was all that remained between them.

Ron scooted forward and placed the pillow behind her, his warm breath tickling her ear. He lifted her legs and pulled her close, the skirt bunching around her waist, her thighs resting on top of his. They were separated by inches when his fingers found her wetness, eliciting a moan. As they locked eyes, Hermione took hold of his jutting member, her hand sliding up and down in time with his ministrations.

"Do you remember our prefect rounds, Hermione? Merlin, I used to wank like mad afterwards. I'd dream about pulling you into a classroom, tearing off your robes, and shagging you senseless. You would scream my name, over and over."

He gently pushed her backwards until her head was cushioned by the pillow. Getting up on his knees, he straightened her legs so that her ankles were resting on his shoulders, before plunging his hard cock deep into her soaking cunt.

"Ohhhhh!"

"This is how I would fuck you in my dreams, Hermione, on top of some professor's desk."

"I fantasised, too... of you wanting me... taking me. Oh Ron, more... _please_."

Ron fucked Hermione even harder, pushing forward, practically bending her in half. She loved his delicious weight on her as he relentlessly pounded her heated center, lightly pinching her sensitive nipples. She screamed as she came, and he climaxed a moment later, shouting her name.

Ron collapsed between her splayed legs and into her warm embrace.

"Best gift ever, Hermione."


	45. Perfection Takes Many Forms

**Perfection Takes Many Forms**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on January 28, 2010

* * *

Ron rolled his eyes as his fiancée bounced gleefully beside him, her mitten-covered hand dragging him towards the entrance of a Christmas tree farm.

He watched, bemused, as she breathed in the strong pine scent and began meticulously examining the rows of dark green firs. Her face scrunched into a familiar look of concentration as she sought to find the _perfect_ tree for their flat.

"Hermione, can't we just transfigure an old broom into a tree, like Mum does? You can shape it however you want."

"That's not the point."

"What _is_ the point?"

"The point, Ron, is that I want our first tree together to be natural and just right. When I was growing up I loved helping my parents pick out a tree every year. It was one of my favourite Christmas traditions and I was hoping we would continue it."

Ron glanced down at her and smiled. She looked adorable recalling her youth, her cheeks red from the cold and her wild brunette strands covered in a light dusting of snowflakes. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a lingering kiss against her frosty lips.

"Mmm... what was that for?"

He chuckled quietly. "Couldn't help myself—I love seeing you so excited."

"I'll be even _more_ excited if you help me choose," she said sweetly.

He dropped his head. "Bloody hell, I hate it when you do that."

She gave him an innocent grin and stood on her toes to peck his cheek. "Do what?"

The corner of his lip turned up as he pulled her close, snuggling her into his side. "Well, c'mon then."

As they continued their search, Ron came to a sudden realisation.

"Uh, love, I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for. These all look the same to me."

"I'll know it when I see it."

"Great." he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

He looked around aimlessly, trying his best to figure out which one would make her happy. Craning his neck up, he spotted one which stood out.

"This tree looks good."

"No, Ron."

"What's wrong with it?"

She laughed. "Do you honestly think it would fit in our flat? It's much too tall."

"Nothing wrong with tall," he mumbled under his breath.

She was a few feet in front of him when he stumbled upon _the one_. It was a foot taller than him and put the surrounding trees to shame with its perfect symmetry and rich colour.

"I've found it!"

Hermione turned, her face lighting up. "Oh, Ron!"

He flashed a cocky smirk. "It was noth–"

She brushed past to peer intently at the short, pitiful, slightly misshapen tree half-hidden behind him. He should have known.

"This poor tree," she cooed, "no one's going to buy it."

He sighed, embracing the inevitable. "Fine, we'll take it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I know you want to, and it's a good reminder of where compassion has gotten us."

"And where's that?"

He swept her into his arms.

"Right here."


	46. Words

**Words**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on February 15, 2010

* * *

Ron balled up yet another piece of parchment in frustration. With a simple wave of his wand he could wipe away his words and start again, but he liked the tactile feeling of crumpling up his failures.

He pushed away from the desk and stared up at the ceiling of the flat. He hadn't seen Hermione since Christmas break, and with no Hogsmeade weekends upcoming, he needed to find a way to do something special for their first Valentine's Day as a couple, even if they had to spend it apart.

Despite their memorable first kiss, she was uncomfortable with big public displays, preferring to keep their relationship private—something just for them to share. On the other hand, he was so ecstatic he wanted to announce their burgeoning romance to everyone he knew... and had done just that at the Burrow before they left for Australia, much to her reluctant amusement. In the following days and weeks, he had learned that she really treasured meaningful, intimate gestures from the heart.

That was why he'd decided to write her a letter. Hermione cherished the written word—he finally understood this after their long conversations under the late summer sun. They exchanged letters all the time about their day-to-day activities and how much they missed each other, but he wanted this to be different.

He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how he felt like a big piece of him was missing while she was finishing school. He just couldn't come up with the flowery words to say so; he was rubbish at that sort of thing. He'd even tried quoting Muggle poetry, but he couldn't understand what half of it meant, even if she could.

"Don't tell me I had to close up downstairs all by myself so that you could sit up here and do nothing," George's voice rang out behind him.

Ron turned and gestured feebly at the mountain of discarded parchment. "I'm trying my bloody best."

George laughed and ruffled Ron's hair. "Poor Ronnie."

Ron slapped his brother's hand away in annoyance. "Stupid git, this is difficult."

"Nah, it's easy to flatter birds, mate. Just tell her she has lovely hair and eyes, that's always worked for me." He grinned. "Of course, I'm _much_ better looking than you."

"This is not some _bird_ , George. Hermione means everything to me. I love her, mate. She's it for me and I hope to one day spend the rest–" He clamped a hand over his mouth, realizing he'd revealed more than he'd intended.

George smirked. "You were saying?"

Ron flushed and mumbled. "Nothing."

"Why don't you tell her what you just told me... except for the last part, yeah?"

"Yeah... thanks George." Ron grabbed a quill and paused, imagining Hermione's smile when she read his special Valentine's note, before starting to write.

"Oh, and Ron?"

"Yes?"

"You might want to try a different quill."

Ron looked down in alarm and groaned. "Not again."

 _Deer Hurnomemy..._


	47. Hello, Molly

**Hello, Molly**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on February 15, 2010

* * *

Arthur squeezed Molly's hand before lifting it to his lips. He watched, misty-eyed, as the brilliant brunette witch strode confidently towards a future with his youngest son. The two traveled a bumpy road to reach this moment, to make that leap from friends to lovers.

It had been so very different for him and Molly.

* * *

Arthur Weasley observed Molly Prewitt from across the common room. He was captivated by the redhead and hated to see her so down.

They were friends, often sharing laughs and silly conversations while revising together alongside the other Gryffindors. Molly was boisterous and vibrant, always speaking her mind and never holding back. It was one of the things he liked most about her.

He'd heard the gossip earlier. His fellow fifth year prefect, that Ravenclaw git, had ended things with her—on the day before they were set to leave for Christmas break, no less.

Arthur was relieved, not only because he fancied Molly, but because it meant that she'd be herself again. As soon as she'd starting going with that wanker, she'd become quiet and docile, always trying to impress him while hiding her true self.

However, she was hurting, so he sat down beside her, nervously running a hand through his thinning hair.

"Hello, Molly."

She turned, giving him a cheerless smile.

"Hello, Arthur."

He offered comfort by sliding an arm around her. She nudged over slightly, into his embrace.

"You deserve better."

"Oh? Do you have someone in mind?"

His telltale blush answered for him. She burrowed into his side, resting her head on his shoulder as he engulfed her within his wiry arms.

Arthur was lost the moment he heard her contented sigh. They had taken that first step, from friendship to something more.

* * *

Two years later they had grown inseparable, spending Christmas of seventh year together with his family.

Molly boldly snuck out of the spare room to join Arthur in his bed, quickly casting a silencing charm and undressing.

She was hovering above him, his mouth finding the pink nipples on the tips of her voluptuous breasts. She slowly lowered herself, sheathing him completely within her and causing them to moan in shared pleasure. The first few times had been fumbling and awkward... now it was fantastic.

Her breath was hot in his ear. "I'm all yours."

He greedily sucked her tongue into his mouth as he repeatedly thrust up inside her. She matched his thrusts, bucking down on him, the ancient mattress squeaking as they found an intense rhythm. His hands held her generous hips as she rode him, screaming his name as they came undone. She collapsed on his chest, panting.

"Oh, Arthur, only six more months and we can be together every day."

He kissed her softly. "Every day for a lifetime?"

"Yes, love. A lifetime."

That promise had sealed it. Friends and lovers, eternally.

* * *

Ron's vows faded into the background momentarily as Arthur whispered in his wife's ear. "I love you, Molly."


	48. Barmy Muggles

**Barmy Muggles**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on February 15, 2010

* * *

Ron fidgeted as he followed Hermione's mum into the kitchen, volunteering to help out in any way he could after the disaster he'd just caused.

"I'm really sorry. It was an accident."

She chuckled and waved him off. "No need to keep apologising, Ron. Besides, that neat bit of magic you did took care of things nicely."

He blushed, but couldn't stop from grinning proudly. "Hermione taught me that one when I knocked over her pumpkin juice one time at Hogwarts. I guess it works on wine, too."

He shuddered, remembering how the dark red liquid had instantly soaked into the flawless white tablecloth—and Mr. Granger's beige shirt.

He could feel his hands shaking slightly as he helped Mrs. Granger remove the large turkey from the oven, nearly dropping the tray before recovering and setting it on the stovetop.

"A bit nervous, Ron?"

"Yes," he admitted, red-faced.

"There really is no need to be. I know we haven't spent that much time together, with Hermione away at school, but you seemed fine around us in Australia."

"Well, Mrs. Granger, I was pretty concerned about Hermione and how she was coping with things. I guess I wasn't paying much attention to myself. You didn't know that we were dating, so to me you were simply Hermione's parents. Now you're _Hermione's parents_."

"First off, Ron, please call me Jean. Hermione's mentioned that things are a little more old-fashioned in your world, but there's no need to be so formal. We're delighted to have you here for Christmas; we know how much you mean to our daughter."

"Thanks Mrs, er, Jean. Is Mr. Granger fine with... everything?" he asked, waving his arms in the air and nearly upsetting a jug of gravy.

"Don't worry about him; he thinks very highly of you." She laughed. "He was the same way when he first spent Christmas with my parents. He had a case of butter fingers, just like you."

 _"Butter fingers? What the bloody hell does that mean?"_ Ron thought.

Jean reached over to grab the aforementioned jug and stepped out of the tidy kitchen. "Please bring the turkey out when you're ready."

Now alone, he looked down at his hand and tentatively raised a finger to his lips, poking out his tongue. It certainly didn't taste like butter.

"What are you doing?"

He hastily wiped his hand on his trousers. "Nothing, your Mum said I have butter fingers, so I was just checking."

Hermione started giggling, which quickly turned to full-blown laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"Ron," she said between pants, trying to catch her breath, "it's a Muggle saying for someone who drops things."

Her laughter was infectious, and he couldn't help but join in, his nervousness melting away. He pulled her into a hug and she brushed the ginger fringe out of his eyes.

"They like you, Ron."

His head leaned forward, their lips inches apart. "Yeah? What about you?"

"I like you, too."

"Good," he whispered as their lips met sweetly.


	49. Enveloped

**Enveloped**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on March 4, 2010

* * *

As Hermione sat huddled in the corner of their sofa, she couldn't help but peek over the top of her book at her handsome fiancé, who was fiddling with the wireless on their mantle—a look of anticipation on his face. She smiled, thinking about their upcoming spring wedding, still unable to believe that the rude and clueless boy on the train had grown into the man she loved.

She stretched her legs out, her eyes never leaving his backside, before placing her book down. Wiggling her cold bare toes, she had the urge to bask in his surrounding warmth.

"Rooooooonnn, I'm freeeezing."

"Light a fire, love." he responded, a sharp chirp of static distracting him from the sudden scowl on her face.  
 _  
Still a bit clueless_ , Hermione thought as she waved her wand at the fireplace. "I'd much rather be wrapped up in something."

She watched as his fingers sought out the neatly folded red fleece blanket on the chair beside him. She'd only had the blanket for a few days, a Christmas gift from Ron's mum, but she'd quickly formed an attachment to it.

Mrs. Weasley had privately explained that she'd had a similar one when she was pregnant with Ron. The two shared a secret smile, imagining Hermione using it for the same purpose in the future. She chuckled when her future mother-in-law revealed that the red colour served as inspiration for Ron's maroon Christmas jumpers.

She was startled out of her reverie when her vision suddenly went black, just as the distinct sounds of a Quidditch match erupted from across the room. In his excitement, Ron had simply tossed the blanket in her direction, unaware of its landing spot right upon her head.

 _Still a bit rude, too_.

She sighed, but her need for closeness was still far stronger than her growing frustration.

"Ron," she said, her muffled voice drowned out by the blaring wireless. She knew he would be staring intently at the device, utterly focused on the announcer.

"Ron!" she exclaimed, much louder this time. A few seconds later she heard his familiar laugh as he approached.

The blanket was gently pulled away, revealing his amused face. She glared, while having a great deal of difficulty hiding her own grin.

"All right, Hermione?" he asked, before beginning to drape the soft material along her body. As he reached the end of the sofa, he threw her a cheeky wink and ran the tips of his fingers along the bottom of her feet.

"Oh, Ron! Stop! Please!" Hermione squealed, giggling as he exploited her most ticklish spot.

He paused momentarily. "Yeah, and what'll you do if I stop?"

Now flushed, she raised a finger and motioned him forward. As he leaned towards her, she grabbed his collar and pulled him down on top of her, enveloped by his heat as they passionately snogged. As their lips parted, her hand inched down and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"I think you'll like what I have in mind."


	50. Shopping Trip

**Shopping Trip**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on March 7, 2010

* * *

Ginny stood with her hands on her hips at their agreed meeting spot—just outside of the entrance to Honeydukes. As she tapped her foot impatiently, a sudden _crack_ broke the stillness of the sleepy winter dawn.

"It's about bloody time!"

"Hello, fairest Ginevra!" Ron exclaimed, a twinkle in his eye. "What a gorgeous and perfect morning."

Thinking he was taking the mickey, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion, unused to such poetic—and frankly, ridiculous—words from her brother.

"Don't you 'hello' me! You're late! Don't forget that _I'm_ the one doing _you_ a favour."

"Look at how the fresh snow sparkles like diamonds."

Angered by his odd behaviour, she reached out and punched him in the arm, hoping to knock some sense into him.

"What is the matter with you, Ron?"

Instead of retaliating, like he normally would, he responded by throwing a long arm around her shoulders and steering her down the snow-lined streets of Hogsmeade.

"My sincerest apologies, dear sister. The lovely Hermione just left our flat to attend breakfast with her parents. I came as soon as the opportunity arose."

"That still doesn't explain why you're prattling on like some silly git. Did Hermione get you a book of big words as an early Christmas present?"

He dropped the act and let out a laugh. "Very funny, Ginny. I'm just excited. I've been looking forward to this day for a long time."

Now she was thoroughly confused. "What are we doing, Ron? You said in your owl last night that you desperately needed my help."

He stopped suddenly, causing her to lurch. "I do need your help—to pick out Hermione's Christmas gift."

Ginny pulled away and turned to face him, before smacking him on the arm.

"Ow! Why do you keep hitting me?"

"You prat! You made me get out of bed early, on the first weekend in months when I don't have a practice scheduled, all because you don't know what to get Hermione? She's only been your girlfriend for what, five years?"

She spun around in a huff, only then noticing the shop they'd stopped in front of.

 _Pearle's Precious Stones and Jewels_.

She stared at the rows of rings in the window for a moment, before turning back around. "Does this mean?"

Ron nodded his head. "You know how much I love Hermione, she's everything to me. On Christmas Eve, I'm going to ask her to be my wife. But, I need to find the perfect ring, the ring that she deserves, and there's only one person I trust to help me."

A swell of emotion hit her as she witnessed the mixture of sincerity and anxiousness on Ron's face. All of her anger fell away upon hearing the news. She reached up, brushing the moisture out of her eyes.

"Now don't go getting all girly on me, Ginny. I'll get enough of that from Mum."

"Prat." She grinned at him and pulled the door open. "Ready?"

"Yes. Yes I am."


	51. Growth

**Growth**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on March 10, 2010

* * *

Hermione glanced around at the beautiful surroundings, the flowers expertly tended by the groom, her first friend in a new world. She focused on the colourful flora, reflecting on how their journey into being followed the same path as the love which blossomed between herself and the freckled man beside her.

It had started—literally—with dirt, the foundation of growth smeared across his nose. The soil was then dampened, readied for life by the falling of her heated tears.

At some point, the seed had been planted, unnoticed at first. As time went by, the shoots of a strong bond emerged, pushing forth from its safe confines into an uncertain world.

More than once, grey skies would rage with arguments and hurt feelings, the young bud wilting, slowing its progress. But, eventually, the sun would shine and the flower would slowly lift up, basking in the warmth of forgiveness and friendship.

Sharp thorns materialized as the relationship began to venture into new territory, wounding deeply through ignorance and jealously. Torrential rains of bitterness nearly swept it away, but it held steadfast, the roots deep.

When night fell, a festering poison ravaged the blossoming connection, only to be healed by the quiet caring gestures of patience following his return.

It was close to flourishing when all was nearly lost. The sharp blade almost severed flower from stem, but in that moment, the bond solidified, turning back the cold steel.

When their love finally bloomed, it was a vision of pure beauty and strength.

As Ron squeezed her hand, signaling the blonde bride's arrival, she marveled at how the tiniest seed could turn into such perfection.


	52. Breakfast

**Breakfast**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on March 21, 2010

* * *

"Hermione, what's taking so long?" Ron shouted.

He was propped up against the headboard, the plaid path of his pyjama-clad legs leading to the pile of Christmas gifts sitting at the end of their mattress.

"Just a few minutes more!"

After waking up and greeting him with a long snog, Hermione had jumped out of bed and rushed downstairs. He barely caught her hurried words, explaining that she had to get a special present for him.

It had been nearly fifteen minutes and he was not known to be an incredibly patient man. How long did it take to retrieve a gift?

A noisy crash rang out from the kitchen and he immediately rolled out of bed to check on her. It was surprising to hear, considering he always did the cooking.

"Oh, bloody hell," she said loudly. For some reason, he couldn't help but grin when he heard that. She rarely cursed—outside of the bedroom, of course.

"Love, is everything alright?" he called out as he reached the stairs.

"I'm fine, Ron, no need to come down... just stay in bed and relax."

Despite her insistence, he could hear the trembling note of frustration in her voice. He arrived to find her repairing ceramic shards with her wand.

"Hermione, what are you doing? I'll make us breakfast after we open the gifts. Why don't you just grab whatever it was you came down here for and come back to bed."

"But... this was the gift."

"A plate we already own?"

"No, of course not! Breakfast... I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed. I thought you'd appreciate the change, since you always make our meals. I even learned a couple of spells from your mum."

"Really?" he said in shock. "Mum's been after you for months to learn how to cook, even though she _knows_ I do it. What happened? Did you drop it all on the floor? Is that how the plate broke?"

She blushed and chewed on her bottom lip. "Not exactly... the food didn't turn out, and I was angry that I couldn't get it right..."

"And?"

"And I flung the plate down," she stated shamefully as she turned to place the plate on the counter.

Ron burst out in uproarious laughter... until he noticed her shoulders shaking, a sure sign she was crying.

"Hermione?"

He was expecting tears, but instead, she was struggling to restrain her amusement. Soon, they were both laughing loudly.

"A bit of an overreaction, but I really wanted to do this."

Ron reeled her in for a hug.

"Thanks for that, but honestly, I love cooking for you. You're so good at everything else..." he shrugged and continued, "I like the feeling of you needing me."

"Oh, Ron, I need so much from you—your love, your humour, your mind, your body... everything."

"Yeah?"

"Of course, I love you, so much."

"I love you, too."

Their lips met in a soft kiss.

"Now, can we _finally_ open the presents?"


	53. Passion

**Passion**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on April 4, 2010

* * *

All through school, I never had much interest in learning facts and memorizing bits of knowledge. Sure, I was a bright bloke and got through my shortened school years well enough, but I realized later it wasn't because I couldn't do it. It was because I didn't have the passion for it. Hermione's passions back then were knowledge and discovery, which was why she was so bloody amazing at it.

I was passionate about a great many things, and when I found something that really captured my attention, it was easy for me to learn everything I could, and I was always hungry for more.

I could effortlessly tell you everything there was to know about Quidditch. I could dispense every statistic and little known fact about the Cannons without a second thought. That was what filled my brain, because it was what I loved.

I could care less about some goblin revolution or the intricacies of a decree from four hundred years ago, but I could understand famed wizard chess stratagems and apply them with ease against any opponent. I was building a skill set much different than the ones designed by an education which sometimes didn't interest me, and so I didn't pursue it with the same amount of zeal.

Those were the hobbies of a boy. It wasn't until I discovered my true passion in life that I really employed my capacity for learning.

Hermione.

She brings out things in me which I never imagined I could feel. I try, every day, to learn something about her and tuck it away in my head. From the second she leapt into my arms and crushed her lips against mine as the world fell down around us, I knew I'd found the thing which would be the main focus of my life and my overwhelming passion.

If you gave me some parchment and a quill, I could write for days, reliving every single touch, every smile, every gentle caress from her, the woman I love. Even recalling that first kiss, I can still feel the pressure of her fingers and the heat of her body against mine, the softness of her lips and warmth of her breath as we finally connected as one.

That was just the first of many touches that followed, all of which I can recall in the clearest of detail—from that first kiss, to explorations in the months following, to making love for the first time the summer following her return from school. Storing those thoughts is a much better use of my brain than the mundane and useless information of everyday life.

As she walks towards me, draped in white with her father by her side, I have yet another image to add to the collection in my head. My life's passions have always ruled my thoughts, driving me to learn, and now, with Hermione as my wife, my greatest passion will continue to fill my thoughts for the rest of my life.


	54. Pattern

**Pattern**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on April 4, 2010

* * *

Hermione smiled to herself upon hearing Ron's usual loud commotion as he returned from a long day at the Auror Office. Their empty home was all too quiet, and she welcomed his lively presence in the evenings.

She was used to her hectic schedule at the Ministry, but she and Ron both agreed that she'd stay home for the final weeks of her pregnancy. She was using the time to get things prepared for the baby, but aside from afternoon visits from their respective mothers, she was mostly on her own all day.

Ron helped as much as he could between his commitments to the office and the shop. Though she made a good salary, she knew how much it meant to him to provide for herself and the baby, and to also help George and Harry.

She stretched and returned to the task in front of her. She'd discovered that the slow and steady rhythm of knitting relaxed her—much more now than it used to. The needles in her hands twirled in a hypnotic pattern, clacking together and forming the loops and stitches that would create a tiny garment for their child.

She sometimes lost track of what she was making, the repetitive motions calming her nerves to a point of stress-free half-consciousness. Then, before her eyes, a pair of tiny booties or brightly-patterned mittens would appear as if created by magic alone.

She held up the navy blue booties in her hand and examined them.

"He'll look adorable in these."

"Who will, love?"

Ron was leaning against the doorway smirking in an attempt to reignite their ongoing debate.

"Our _son_."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Hermione, but it's going to be a girl... our little girl."

She nodded, unable to stop a tear from falling at the thought of how close they were to finally meeting their baby.

Ron walked into the room and sat down next to her on the sofa, pulling her in for a hug and rubbing her back.

"Alright, sweetheart?"

"I'm just so emotional these days, but all of the books said it was normal."

"Books... of course."

She gently pushed away and smacked his shoulder.

"Owwaaaaaaaaaaahhh."

His mock complaint had turned into a long yawn.

"Come here, Ron."

He shifted his position and splayed out his lean body, pausing to kiss and whisper to her belly before nestling against her thigh and drifting easily into a nap. Hermione briefly ran her fingers through his ginger locks before starting her next project.

After a couple of hours, the combination of his steady breathing and her knitting lulled her into a state of relaxation, which was eventually interrupted when he started and looked up at her.

"No bloody way."

She met his look of pure disbelief with one of amusement.

"I don't care if it's a boy or a girl—they're not wearing _that_ , Hermione."

She looked at the small maroon jumper in her hands, adorned with a yellow-coloured 'R', and couldn't help but laugh.


	55. Dazed And Confused

**Dazed And Confused**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on June 11, 2010

* * *

Hot and uncomfortable was how he'd felt in the summer, but this heat wave was something else entirely.

It started with a tingling feeling, accompanied by the gentle caress of wild hair against his skin. A rush of warmth raced through his body and his eyes went fuzzy, his fingers pressing the spot on his cheek which was the cause of his reaction.

Her soft lips had touched him there.

Her lips.

A whisper of good luck, and then the subtle scent of her had invaded his space, distracting him from his worries. Parchment, ink, strawberries… _Hermione_. It had grown on him, particularly over the past year, and now he would know it anywhere. It had captured his attention for a mere second until something else completely overwhelmed his senses.

Her lips.

He was vaguely aware of Harry leading him away and Angelina's instructions as he struggled with his robes. He felt like he was going to melt into a puddle, overheated and stunned as he recalled the slight pressure of her against him.

Her lips.

As Alicia appeared to help him get straightened out, he couldn't resist once again raising his hand to feel that cherished area where Hermione had boldly kissed him. The steadily increasing volume of both the gathering crowd and Angelina brought him out of the daze, and the anxiety deep in the pit of his stomach began to grow again. He tried hard to concentrate on the one sensation he was in danger of getting completely lost in.

Her lips.


	56. A Special Bond

**A Special Bond**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on July 6, 2010

* * *

"You need to turn this knob here, Hermione."

"But then it's out of focus! Here let me."

"Mummy! Daddy!"

Rosie's excited squeals caused Ron and Hermione to look up from where they were fumbling with their new camera, specifically purchased for this moment.

Hugo was teetering on his pudgy legs, straddling the fine line between taking his first steps and tipping backwards onto his diapered bum—a skill he'd already mastered.

Ron slid to his knees with arms outstretched, beckoning his son forward, while Rose and Hermione watched in rapt attention.

"C'mon Hugo, this way, mate."

The pin drop silence in the room was broken by the click of the shutter, but Ron didn't even register this as Hugo looked towards him and raised his tiny fist.

"Daaaa!"

Ron kept trying to summon Hugo forward. "Yes, come to Daddy."

Hugo gurgled at Ron's frantic motions, before finally taking a tentative step forward, and then another. Two more quick, off-balance steps landed him in Ron's long freckled arms.

Rose and Hermione both cheered and clapped as Ron lifted Hugo high in the air and blew a raspberry on his belly.

* * *

Ron couldn't decide whether to smile or frown as he stared at the photo frame, watching as Hugo took his first steps, always landing Ron's arms.

He felt Hermione's fingers run through his hair, stopping to lightly massage the back of his neck.

"It feels like this happened yesterday."

"Oh, Ron."

"Where did the time go? Eleven years since we took him home from St. Mungo's, and now, he's gone."

She pressed a kiss onto the top of his head and rubbed slow, wide circles on his back.

"It'll be Christmas in no time, and then he'll return. Just imagine his excitement—he'll want to tell you all about Hogwarts."

Ron reluctantly agreed. "Yeah... but I won't be the person he turns to anymore. He'll make some brilliant new friends to go alongside his cousins, and he won't have time for his dad."

"Our roles will change as the kids get older, but they'll always come to us. We'll always be there to love and support them. That will never change, Ron."

He smiled and wrapped an arm around the love of his life, pulling her down to sit next to him. She rested her head on his shoulder as they watched their son in the photo.

"There is so much you're going to need to teach him. Quidditch training, for example, because you know he'll try out in a few years. He already has your humour and courage, but also your temper. That'll need to change."

Ron nuzzled her bushy hair, which had bunched against his neck. "He'll need to learn how to talk to girls..."

She laughed. "Maybe I should handle that one."

He chuckled and kissed her. "You're right, Hermione. They'll both always need us."

"We'll always be there for them, and for each other."

"It's just like I promised you years ago—for always and forever."


	57. A Matter Of Batter

**A Matter Of Batter**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on August 28, 2010

* * *

Ron padded into the kitchen, his eyes still half-closed from sleep. It was his long, freckled nose that had led him out of bed, drawn by the delicious odours wafting through the air. Cozying up behind his beautiful wife, he wrapped his arms around her waist and dropped a quick peck on her cheek.

"Morning, love."

She turned and greeted him with a much longer kiss.

"Mmmm. Good morning, Ron."

He grinned, now fully awake, and pressed his lips to hers once more. "It sure is."

"You're up early."

"It smells so good, Hermione; I couldn't help but follow the scent."

He surreptitiously glanced at the mixing bowl behind her. "It's irresistible... just like you."

She rolled her eyes, but her eyelids fluttered to a close as he leaned in again. A second later, her hand shot out and smacked him on the wrist, preventing his not-so-subtle attempt to sample the cake batter.

"Bloody hell!"

She opened her eyes and was greeted with a look of both awe and disappointment. She kissed away his pout before handing him the batter-slathered wooden spoon. His eyes lit up, and she laughed at the pleased expression on his face as he savoured the creamy mixture.

"You'd better enjoy it, you're not getting any more until tonight."

"But, Hermione..."

"There are fresh scones on the countertop and biscuits in the oven."

Ron's cheeks were already bulging as he grabbed some dishes and began setting the table for breakfast, leaving a trail of crumbs in his wake.

"You're making a mess."

He shrugged his shoulders apologetically, his mouth still stuffed. She couldn't stay upset, as he looked too adorable with his haphazard, slumber-shaped hair. With a quick wand movement, the crumbs vanished, and she went back to the task at hand—gingerly pouring the batter into a glass baking dish.

As he swallowed the scrumptious scone, Ron watched in fascination as his wife laid a towel on the floor, before sitting down with the dish and banging it repeatedly against the cloth-covered spot.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting the air out, so that when the cake bakes, there aren't any holes on the inside."

"My mum knows some charm or another for that."

"I wanted to do it all by hand, just like my mum. I thought it would be nice, considering it's for their anniversary."

A quick flicker of doubt crossed her face before she stood up and set the dish down in front of her. "I just hope it turns out as good as my mum's."

Ron put down the scone he was smothering with preserves for his wife and stood up, making his way to her.

"It'll be fine, Hermione. Besides, they'll be touched you went to so much trouble."

"You think so?"

"Of course!"

He moved to pull her into a hug, and she melted into his arms.

"Ron," she mumbled into his shoulder.

"Yes?"

"If your finger gets any closer to that baking dish, I'm going to hex it off!"


	58. Lifetime

**Lifetime**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on September 25, 2010

* * *

The sun is just starting to rise as you stifle a yawn, the tragedy of the past few days and the hard work over the previous weeks taking its toll on your sleeping habits. The heightened sense of awareness that is now second nature makes it difficult to truly rest. You fear for your family's safety constantly, especially the son who's abandoned you.

You momentarily push the disturbing thoughts away as you pad around your kitchen. You have something better to focus on—your eldest is getting married, and soon your home will be alive with activity.

There are so many details to worry about in order to make this day perfect for your son and daughter-in-law. As you begin gathering flowers and ribbons for the last of the centrepieces, you happen to glance out the window and see the man that has always been by your side, through everything.

Your lips form a smile as you stop to watch him. His tall, lanky form stands out against the dawn, the enthusiastic curiosity you hold dear ever present as he examines something in the garden's grass, where the rows of chairs soon will sit. He's always been beautiful in your eyes, and though his lovely ginger hair has thinned over time, it serves as a reminder of your wonderful years together.

You'll never forget the way he looked at you when you were bonded for life, like all of his dreams had come true. Strange as it may seem, your wedding was perfect, even if it wasn't how you imagined it.

Though you've been around magic your entire life, you felt a power that day unlike anything else you'd ever felt before. The joy, that sense of pure love, flowed through you when you made the vow to be with him for the rest of your life. When you realized he was your husband and you were his wife; that you would raise a family and grow old together.

How quickly the time had passed.

As you continue to ready the decorations, you let out a quiet laugh at the lavishness of this wedding compared to your own elopement. But then again, isn't that what you always wanted for your children, to give them the things you couldn't have? You were so in love and the world seemed so bleak—you did what you could to be happy, just like they are.

That's the only common element, you think grimly. Your own marriage and now your son's will be during the gloomiest of times, the blinding brightness of love cutting through the darkness.

You hear the creak of the door, and familiar arms wrap around your waist. You lean back and rest your head against his shoulder. It feels the same as it did when you were eighteen, and you know this will hold true when you're eighty.

That is the wish you have for your son and his bride—a lifetime full of love, just like you and yours.


	59. One Step

**One Step**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on October 3, 2010

* * *

I'd been really excited about this wedding, I'll admit it. But not out loud to Harry, he'd probably just take the piss. It wasn't the ceremony I'd been looking forward to, but the part right after with the food... and the dancing.

Things between Hermione and I had been steadily improving. The advice book had done loads, but what'd really helped was that I'd been there to support her through some difficult times recently. I think she'd noticed, as I'd caught her looking in my direction more than once, always turning away quickly—with a pretty flush across her cheeks.

She looked bloody gorgeous when she'd come up to Harry and I a few hours ago. I wanted to tell her exactly that—but without the bloody, of course. Don't think she would've appreciated that! Instead, I'd been overcome by nervousness and had gone blank for a second; barely managing to tell her she looked great. I hoped she understood how I felt.

Then that stupid git showed up with his stupid beard and his stupid face, telling her she looked vunderful. I could tell she was flustered by his sudden appearance, and I could feel my frustration rising at his unexpected intrusion. At least I was able to vent a bit to Harry... er, Barny.

I'd been planning for days to ask Hermione, as gentlemanly as possible, to dance. My anger at the git's presence had taken hold, and I was gruff with how I approached her. I couldn't help it; I was scared I was going to lose her yet again, when we were so close to taking a step forward. I was thrilled when she'd accepted, and not only that, she'd seemed genuinely pleased, even happy about dancing with me.

It was awkward at first, a bit of a struggle to find the right position to put my large hands so as not to touch her in any places where I wasn't welcome. She giggled—yes, Hermione giggled—and firmly guided my hands to her lower back. I'm sure she could feel the heat of my anxiety through the thin material of her dress, but she didn't seem to mind. She didn't even mind when I stepped on her toes once and quietly apologized. She just smiled and shifted closer, straining a bit to lock her fingers around the back of my neck, the tips of them brushing my skin.

That felt brilliant.

After a couple of songs, the tension and nerves seemed to fade away and we began talking and joking, truly enjoying one another's company. We drew closer and more comfortable with each tune.

Now, she's firmly in my arms, her head resting lightly against my chest. She looks up every couple of minutes and smiles, and I can't help but return a grin of my own. My hands are slowly running up and down her back, and we're swaying to the music. I've forgotten everything else and I'm just enjoying this moment.

It's perfect.


	60. Time Flies By

**Time Flies By**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on February 3, 2011

* * *

"Quickly! There!"

He dove behind the suit of armour, just ahead of the pounding footsteps.

The vile man stopped and spat on the ground before addressing me.

"Eh, 'ave you seen that Longbottom twerp?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Carrow."

He waved his wand at me, growling in irritation before stomping off through my floating form.

Mr. Longbottom emerged from behind the armour, clearly shaken. A scratch marred his cheek and he was panting.

"Thanks, Sir Nick. I almost got caught that time."

"You're very brave for standing up to them. Godric Gryffindor himself would be proud."

His shoulders slumped. "I feel like a coward for always hiding."

"Nonsense. The other students look to you for leadership, and the battle you're fighting is just."

He straightened his posture, just as a loud voice rang out. He nodded and disappeared down a side passage, ready to fight another day.

It saddened me to see my noble home turned into a prison. At least there was still hope for the students—the defenders.

* * *

"That was magnificent. If only someone had cut my head off with such vigour!"

He grinned, weary yet relieved. The castle was alive with celebration and he'd stolen away from his admirers for a moment of peace.

"I was just following Harry's instructions; he did the hard part."

"You're much too modest; your deeds will be recorded in the annals of Wizarding history, after all. Neville Longbottom, slayer of the serpent and leader of Dumbledore's Army."

He blushed and shook his head in disbelief before assuming a contemplative solemnity.

"I've never properly thanked you, Sir Nick. All of the spying you did and distractions you created sure helped our cause. We couldn't have done it without you."

"No, no, my good man, it is you I should be thanking. In all my years here, I've never seen a student with such dedication to this school."

"This place is my home, just as much as it is yours. I'm really going to miss it."

"You're always free to return."

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Longbottom! Or shall I say, Professor Longbottom? It's a pleasure to see you again."

"Sir Nick! I was just looking for you; I see you've heard the news."

"We ghosts have a tendency to spread gossip, you know. It does get a bit dull here sometimes."

He laughed and I could still see that eleven-year-old version of him.

"I feel like I belong here."

"Indeed you do, Mr. Longbottom."

* * *

"This is goodbye then. I'm retiring."

"You've just gotten here! What is the hurry?"

"I've been here for 70 years, Sir Nick."

"Oh my, how the time flies."

It struck me then that his hair was grey and thinning, and he walked with the slight limp of the aged.

"I'm ready to move on. Hannah wants to travel and spend more time with the great-grandchildren."

As we said our farewells and he turned to leave, I remembered that clumsy boy who became a hero.

I would miss him.


	61. Improvisation

**Improvisation**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on February 14, 2011

* * *

"Bloody hell."

Ron pushed aside the curtain and peered out at the steady rainfall, his heart sinking with each raindrop. The weather had been warm and dry recently, so he'd made some outdoor plans to celebrate Valentine's Day.

Big plans.

The small box was burning a hole in his pocket, and he was determined to follow through with his proposal today. He'd have to think of a different way to ask Hermione to be his wife.

He continued to stare, his mind conjuring a vision of Hermione dancing in the rain, drenched but having the time of her life.

A wet Hermione tempted him greatly.

Inspired, he raced down the stairs of their cozy two-story home and found Hermione cuddled up with some thick, ancient-looking book—a common scene most mornings.

Grabbing it out of her hands, he tossed it onto the unoccupied end of the sofa. Before she could even comprehend what was happening, he entwined his fingers with hers and grinned down at her.

"Come and dance?"

His transgression forgotten, she gave him a strange look and nodded as he pulled her up to her feet.

"What has gotten into you, Ron?"

"It's Valentine's Day!"

"I'm aware," she said, a wide smile blossoming across her face at his enthusiasm. "I received a rather large bouquet of flowers at my office yesterday... even though it was a day early."

"I figured that everyone would get flowers today, so I wanted to be different."

"It certainly was, especially when the flowers started singing 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love' to me."

"That was George's fault, sorry 'bout that."

"Why am I not surprised? Anyway, you promised me a dance?"

"Right."

He pulled her towards the door to the garden, much to her bewilderment.

"Where are we going?"

"Outside."

"But it's pouring out there!"

"I know."

"At least let... RON!"

The laughter was evident in her screeches of protest as he scooped her up over his shoulder and carried her out the door.

Setting her down gently on the grass, he wrapped his arms around her and slowly began swaying. The water soaked them through as they danced, clothes sticking like a second skin as she rested her head on his chest.

They slowed, as did the rain, and his hands slid up her body, his thumbs softly brushing away rivulets of water flowing down her cheeks.

"You are so beautiful, Hermione."

She blushed prettily. "Thank you, love."

His fingers tangled in her wet hair, their lips meeting in a heated, passionate kiss. As they broke apart, he quietly whispered a phrase he'd been waiting to say for a long time.

"Marry me."

Hermione stared, her eyes wide.

Slicking his hair out of his eyes, Ron got down on one knee in the drenched grass of their garden before fishing the box out of his pocket and presenting her with the ring he'd worked hard to buy.

It was no longer water that was rolling down her rosy cheeks.

"Yes."


	62. From Seed To Sprout

**From Seed To Sprout**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on February 17, 2011

* * *

I stared fondly at my dirt-covered fingers, laughing quietly to myself as I remembered my mother's exasperation upon discovering my passion for nature. The first spells I learned were the cleansing charms she'd frequently use to clean the soil from my hands, face, and robes.

I spent hours in our garden, captivated by the uniqueness of each stalk of grass, each budding plant. I would dig and examine everything, my curiosity knowing no bounds. It was such a thing of beauty to see the morning sun illuminating the dew-covered petals of a brightly coloured flower, or to marvel at a delicate new shoot just peeking out from the ground.

As I got older and started growing my own little shrubs and flora, I gained a much deeper understanding and appreciation for these wonders. It was so profoundly fulfilling to care for these plants, to watch them slowly grow from just a seed. Some lived merely a season, as much as it pained me—a brief but brilliant existence which always left a mark on me—while there were others I was able to cultivate for years, decades even, each one holding a place in my heart as any loved one would.

They were incredible to me, not only for their beauty and distinctiveness, but for their practicality. They gave us so many things besides something pretty to admire—their scents, which could be delightful or dreadful, and their use in all sorts of potions and elixirs. Truly amazing they were, and my enthusiasm and love was constantly renewed by the promise of discovering something new.

This passion of mine translated well to my studies of the subject, and in due time, I found myself teaching this topic that I loved. It became apparent to me that the students, in most cases that is, were drawn to the more dynamic classes like defence or flying. But every so often, a child would come along who really understood why I loved Herbology. Those were the ones I cherished the most throughout my career.

I heard a noise behind me, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"Ah, Pomona, I hate to interrupt. How is our friend coming along?"

I glanced at the densely-packed corner of the greenhouse and nodded at the Headmaster.

"Almost ready, Albus. I'll have the Devil's Snare in place a few days before the children arrive."

"Excellent! The preparations are nearly complete. I have a feeling that we'll have a good crop of new students this year," he stated with chuckle, that usual twinkle in his eye. "I'll leave you to it."

As I turned back to the soil, my mind flooded with thoughts of protecting magical stones and the new school term ahead, a seed of hope blossomed. Perhaps this year I would be lucky enough to teach that rare student who shared my love and passion for growing, one who would allow me to help nurture them as well, just as I would one of my precious blooms.


	63. Aftermath

**Aftermath**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on February 24, 2011

* * *

I kept telling myself they were safe, but seeing Tonks and Professor Lupin buried this morning had shaken that belief. The sound of Teddy's cries at the funeral had pierced my heart, the cruelty and depth of his loss evident to everyone except him.

Was I, like poor Teddy, now an orphan?

Had something happened to them in the past year?

Would I be able to find them and bring them home?

I had too many questions, and few answers.

I clutched the chipped cup in my hands, the boiling tea doing little to heat my fingers. I couldn't seem to fight off the constant chill from too many nights spent shivering in the dark.

The Portkey, an old toothbrush staring at me from the table renewed my hope momentarily; Ron's words providing temporary warmth as he kissed me gently on the head, knowing I needed space.

"We leave tomorrow."

* * *

I would give anything to be on the wrong end of a prank. To know they were in their room, scheming and plotting to embarrass me for a laugh.

But they weren't, and never would be again.

"Stupid, stupid," I cursed at myself as the familiar hot tears came again. They'd probably take the piss if they saw me right now.

My brother was dead.

I always looked up to them and wanted to be just like them, my closest brothers.

Now just one.

I heard the shuffle of footsteps and turned away, shielding my shame and pain, trying desperately to compose myself.

"Oh Ron," Hermione whispered.

I felt her arms around my much too skinny waist, her head resting against my back.

At least one good thing came out of this. I'm sure Fred was having a laugh somewhere, seeing us together.

Hopefully, George would even crack a smile.

* * *

My life to this point had been defined by the war and Voldemort.

Now it was done.

I should have felt relief, being freed of my burden, but I was surrounded by grief. I knew how it felt, the raw pain of having a loved one ripped away so suddenly.

It was too much for me to acknowledge. I was drained, tired of the sadness that ruled my life.

My adopted mother had lost a son. My best friends were in their own little worlds, and the girl that meant the most was in mourning.

For years they had supported me, taken care of me like no one ever had. Protected and comforted me during my darkest periods.

As awkward as I felt, I knew the time was now to return the favour.

I slipped my hand over Ginny's and gave it a squeeze.

It was the best I could offer.


	64. Mirroring

**Mirroring**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on March 3, 2011

* * *

The old man looking back at him from the small square mirror was tired.

He supposed he had more to worry about than most.

It was with a sense of relief that he approached his waning days, content with the inevitable outcome. He examined his blackened hand, a grim smile on his face. It was just the latest price he paid, a harsh reminder of a lesson learned long ago.

No, this time he would not seek to conquer death. He would embrace it and use it. Yet, it was difficult not to look back on his long life, his regrets weighing heavily.

Putting down the mirror, he opened the drawer and extracted a photo of a family, one which he found himself looking at more and more as his time dwindled. He focused on the two young boys—identical in looks, but certainly not in nature. His greatest regrets echoed in his worst nightmares.

He sighed as he gingerly rose, slipping the mirror into his cloak. The short walk to Hogsmeade seemed to lengthen infinitely when the Hog's Head was his destination.

They had made their peace in the years past, a grudging civility.

He was going to die knowing that he would never earn Aberforth's full forgiveness, knowing that he didn't deserve it and never would.

Fingering the square mirror, he was certain his brother still had a role to play.

Not for the greater good, as had once been his ambition, but for the triumph of goodness.

* * *

He collapsed in a rickety old chair, drained. It was usually tense when his brother paid a visit, but this time it was much different. For once, Albus confided in him.

Albus was dying.

He didn't know how to feel. Too many years of anger pulsed beneath the surface, their relationship long since warped from that of loving siblings. It was difficult to observe his brother so weak and frail. Despite his personal feelings, he never doubted his brother's strength of will.

His loss would be a blow to everything they spent years fighting for.

He had forgiven his brother long ago, enough for them to work together in the Order. Glancing up at the portrait of Ariana, he knew he could never bring himself to excuse Albus for her death.

Anger seized him, that unspoken rift between them clouding his thoughts—only to be replaced with regret. Regrets of past actions done in temper. Regrets of their broken family and the sense of abandonment his brother had selfishly instilled.

He peered at the mirror, its magical properties explained briefly and its purpose made clear regarding Harry Potter. No further explanation was given by his brother.

Secrets and lies—his schemes and plans seemingly unending. Yet he still believed in his brother enough to take on this task, knowing Albus entrusted him to watch over Potter, understanding that the boy may be the key to peace.

He may not completely forgive his brother, but he hoped Albus also found peace.


	65. Defying Moments

**Defying Moments**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on March 10, 2011

* * *

A quiet Burrow seemed strangely unnerving.

But when the silence was broken by muffled shouts from the garden, joyous and carefree, it made her smile. It was the first time she had truly smiled since losing her son weeks ago.

She was so used to the grim desperation of the past years that it felt odd to smile, to feel happiness. She realized in that moment why the eerie hush affected her so deeply. It was laughter that usually filled the walls of her home, a sound which had slowly faded away as the war cast a larger shadow on their world.

That profound sense of loss hit her strongly as she recalled all of the years they had in this home, when her family had been whole. Fred and George's antics were as part of the Burrow as the very walls holding it up. It was this tragic loss of more innocent times that pained her deeply.

She was fiercely proud of Fred's sacrifice. She was proud of all of her children for standing up against evil and hatred to keep their world safe and just. Her devastated, aching heart disagreed.

As her vision clouded with tears, she couldn't help but think of how naively she'd assumed that building this home, this place of love and security, would be a symbol of her biggest personal defiance. Not only had it been a way for her to stand up to some of her well-to-do relations, who'd looked down on poor Arthur, but it'd allowed them to create something wonderful amidst the dark days of Voldemort's first reign.

Each plank of wood represented a small victory in her eyes, against the odds facing them during such a tumultuous period. They had been determined to build this home, as peculiar as it was, and to create a foundation for their lives together.

Back then, she didn't understand what real defiance and sacrifice truly meant. To lose a child was something that would leave a permanent scar on her family, but if there was any consolation, she knew Fred wouldn't have wanted it any other way. None of her brave children would stand by when their way of life was being threatened.

She heard Ginny's laugh ring out, and her stomach clenched, reliving how close she had come to never hearing it again. Everything was a blur, but Molly was certain that in killing Bellatrix, she'd gone against her core nature to love and nurture. She would do it again in a heartbeat, to protect her children from the monsters that tried to harm them.

No, taking a life and fighting the overwhelming evil they'd faced, and defeated, was now her ultimate act of defiance. It was one that she would gladly live with.

Two sides of a galleon, building and destroying, yet both done with the same purpose. Molly knew this, grateful that her moments of defiance were done to shelter and protect.

She could do no less for those she loved.


	66. Family Man

**Family Man**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on March 17, 2011

* * *

A high-pitched squeal interrupted my thoughts as James emerged from the back door of the Burrow, clad only in a nappy. He'd escaped another changing—a born troublemaker, my son.

Walking into that forest years ago, I never thought I'd have all this.

It didn't seem possible.

I vividly remember those dreaded steps, my life decided for me. No hope of ever experiencing those few things in my life that gave me joy. The acute awareness of the smell of the grass and cool air on my face in that moment truly made me appreciate the little things.

I've lived my life with this realization always in mind.

It was a gift to have the freedom to once again fly through the air, the open skies beckoning, speeding forward with the wind blowing through my hair. This simplest of pleasures, the first true fun I'd had in my youth was not to be taken for granted.

The door opened and Ginny's voice called out for James. My wife, my partner, and now the mother of our children, her fire and passion had taught me to love and be loved. It was this hope that had gotten me through so many nights, when my spirit was nearly broken. Just the thought of her set my heart ablaze, allowing me to forge an iron will to take on the greatest of evils for a future with her.

As my son waddled his way back to the house, I caught a glance of an image that my eleven-year-old self would have never believed, even with all of the magic in the world. Ron and Hermione were huddled under a tree, his long arms dangling comfortably around her shoulders, staring at her with so much love as she tickled baby Rose.

I've always been at a loss to describe exactly how much they've meant to me. Despite their own ups and downs, they were always there for me, their belief and friendship as solid as the earth I'm standing on. They gave me that strength and support that I needed to not only survive, but to grow into a man capable of raising a family.

Harry Potter, family man. It was truly remarkable. In my short time as a father, I've already learned many valuable lessons about how to raise children, the patience and flexibility needed for such a task. Yet, the one which will serve me best, that life flows like a turbulent river and it's best to enjoy the scenery, was learned years ago on a dark forest path.

I thought that was the close.

It was just the start of more than I could imagine.


	67. Down

**Down**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on August 1, 2011

* * *

The maw opened up in front of their eyes, beckoning them to enter the dark. One of them had been down there before, but this time, the stakes were much higher.

He was a bit surprised that it had worked as well as he'd hoped during that flash of inspiration, and though they could die at any second, he was filled with a sense of pride, especially since he was able to finally achieve something good in front of her. Something that made him feel worthy of her. He shook his head, knowing he needed to focus, but continued hoping there could be more for the two of them.

She was so full of amazement at his plan, his sheer brilliance in coming up with an idea that had eluded her. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and show him everything she was feeling, but knew that the moment wasn't right. Yet, the idea stayed in the forefront of her thoughts. The dank bathroom did little to dampen her spirits, though her heart was thudding at the thought of plunging into the unknown.

They stood, side-by-side, illuminated only by the white light emanating from their wands and made ready to enter the darkness, to go down the pipe and into the chamber. Their fingers were a hair away from touching, but that was one plunge they weren't quite ready to take. They were almost there.


	68. Illusion

**Illusion**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on February 12, 2017

* * *

It had been her idea, after all. Though now she was regretting it.

Their opportunities to go out together, on actual _dates_ , were few and far between as Hermione helped her parents resume their lives in England. If she was correctly keeping track, it was only their fourth formal date since the end of the war.

She didn't count their time together in Australia. That had been him mostly comforting and supporting her through a difficult situation. Not the most ideal time for carefree fun and romance.

She hadn't even paid much attention to the show, fully aware of all the classic tricks the performers were completing. No, she'd spent more time watching Ron's reactions in the darkened theatre, unsure of what he'd think.

Would he be offended? Horrified? Would he ridicule her on her choice of outing? It wasn't as if she'd been on any dates before they'd finally gotten together. He had stood and clapped at the conclusion, but maybe it was just out of pity, not wanting her to feel bad. Perhaps it was an illusion.

Now, as they exited the small auditorium, she couldn't help but stare up at him again, his face giving away nothing.

Despite the lovely feeling of his warm hand capturing hers as they strolled done the street, she remained silent.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head, broken out of her reverie. "Nothing."

"I know you better than that."

She could feel her throat closing and her eyes dampen. "Oh, you hated it, didn't you? You must have thought it was childish and ridiculous. I've gone and ruined our date!"

Ron chuckled and nudged her to the side, out of the way of the other pedestrians, before placing his hands on her shoulders and gently turning her towards him. She did her best to avoid his eyes.

"Well, I believe I've been accused of being childish and ridiculous, so it must not be that bad."

She tried her best not to let the corners of her lips curve into a smile, but she couldn't help it.

"If you must know, I thought it was brilliant!"

She glanced up, and saw the huge grin across his face.

"I really thought the bloke in the cape had cut his assistant in half. But her feet were still moving… I wonder how he did that? Oh, and it was hilarious when that rabbit just popped out of his hat."

"You really enjoyed it? You're not just saying that?"

"I really did, it was cool to see Muggle magic."

"Well it's not really magic, more of a combination of sleight of hand, distractions, mirrors…"

"Shhh!" Ron admonished her. "Don't ruin it!"

She laughed and wiped at her eyes. "I just wanted you to have a bit of fun."

He took her hands in his. "It was really fun, and you know what the best part was?"

"What?"

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. "Spending time with you, love. That's always magical to me."


	69. Firelight

**Firelight**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on February 14, 2017

* * *

Silence enveloped her world, the peace only broken by the occasional crackle of the bright fireplace. Once upon a time, she never could have imagined that such an evening was possible.

Staring out the large window of their small cottage, she watched as the barest hints of snow slowly floated down, like wisps of cotton caught in a gentle summer breeze.

She sighed, enrobed in a warm blanket of safety and love.

Her left hand idly stroked the reddish-gold fur of her pet. As usual, Crookshanks had tucked himself into her side and drifted off, just as gratified as she was.

She beheld her right hand, her fingers tangled in the beautiful ginger locks of her love. Ron's head was propped on her knee, his lean, sleeping body half-hanging over the side of their overstuffed settee, causing her to grin.

She marvelled as the flickers of light from the fire played across his face, the shifting illumination highlighting different freckles. She loved him and the little life they'd built together in the years following the war.

She continued surveying his face, from his gold eyelashes, to his long nose, to his very tempting lips. She was compelled to lean down and give him the barest hint of a kiss.

Sensing her presence, his eyelashes fluttered open, those same lips curving into a smile as she deepened the leisurely snog.

Hermione broke off the kiss and stroked the backs of her fingers across his cheek. She was enthralled by the look of pure adoration he was giving her.

"That is the best way to wake up," Ron said, letting out a loud yawn before unceremoniously shifting his long torso and flopping his head down on her shoulder.

"Hush, Crookshanks is sleeping."

"He's always sleeping."

Ron peered over at the slumbering ball of fur. "You know, love, I've always meant to ask you…"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you get a ginger cat?"

Hermione felt her cheeks warm, and it wasn't due to the heat from the hearth. Her gaze momentarily held the now thickly falling snow, the swirling chaos reminding her of how she felt back then.

"Well… I happened to be drawn to the colour, and Kneazles are very intelligent."

"You were drawn to the colour?"

"Yes, why is that so difficult to understand?"

"Well, ginger is not exactly a popular choice… for most."

"It was perfect for me."

"Are we still talking about the cat, Hermione?"

"Maybe," she lied.

"Right."

"I was confused, and I didn't know what to make of it. You infuriated me, yet, I knew what I felt for you was different than what I felt for Harry."

"I know what you mean… I felt differently about you, too. You were pretty, and I didn't know what to make of it."

"You thought I was pretty? Even back then?"

She turned and saw the blush on his cheeks this time as he sat up.

"Yeah."

She snuggled into him, basking in his warmth and completely content.

"Love you."


	70. Learn

**Learn**

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Originally published on February 21, 2017

* * *

She was worried about him.

He was up early, again. Three days in a row, since Fred's funeral. She was also having trouble sleeping, which is why she'd heard him sneak downstairs.

Hermione was finding it difficult not to just confront him about it, now that they were together.

 _This won't do._

After searching through the house, by the pond, and the Quidditch pitch, she was stumped—until she spotted the ramshackle shed behind the Burrow.

She quietly entered. Ron's outline was visible in the dawn light, his shoulders slumped, facing away from her. He seemed to be tinkering with something.

Hermione stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his back, causing him to flinch.

"Ron?"

Her voice broke the silence, which seemed to disrupt his thoughts.

"What are you doing up, Hermione? You need your rest."

"I'm worried about you."

Ron shrugged. "I have a lot on my mind."

She rubbed his back, up and down for a moment. He closed his eyes and she could feel him relax.

"That's nice."

"Is it helping, coming out here?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "It's one of the few places I don't associate with Fred, and it's helping me learn…"

He quieted down, but she could see the familiar, telltale blush around his ears. After a moment, she couldn't take it any longer.

"Learn?"

He dropped whatever he was holding and spun to face her, his hands reaching for hers. Their fingers entwined and he gave them a squeeze.

"You know."

Her face was a picture of puzzlement, and he looked surprised. He seemed to think it was obvious.

"I don't, Ron. Tell me."

He shuffled over and she could finally see what he'd been fiddling with on his dad's workbench. There sat a torch, with its batteries removed.

"I'm trying to learn about Muggle things, so I don't make a fool of myself in front of your parents."

If she didn't already love Ron Weasley, that certainly would have done it.

"Oh, Ron."

She reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. He seemed surprised, but his arms quickly wrapped around her waist and he enthusiastically returned her affections.

As they deepened their kiss, Hermione tried to pour everything she was feeling into it. She was already shaky about the trip to Australia and finding her parents, and the fact that he was so confident they'd find them, and was even figuring out how to impress them, put her heart at ease.

They finally had to pause and catch their breath.

"I love you," Hermione professed, before resuming the kiss.

The door suddenly swung open and Arthur strode in, catching them in mid-embrace.

"Oh! Er, good morning, Hermione. I came to tell Ron that breakfast was ready… and uh, of course, that goes for you, as well."

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley."

"Right, then. I'll see you two inside."

As he closed the door, Hermione couldn't help but start giggling.

"He didn't seem phased at all."

"Have you met my siblings?"


End file.
